


Sanctuary

by BadgerSigil



Series: Dumpster Party [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add tags as the chapters come, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Psychological Torture, but not horribly, frank's not-ptsd comes up quite a lot, gets a bit on the smutty side, shamelessly bisexual Frank Castle, vague mention of Catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadgerSigil/pseuds/BadgerSigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Frank." Matt says, voice quiet. "Breathe." Frank flushes. Never going to get used to the hearing thing. Invasive. Like chaining a man to a roof and taping a gun to his hand. Matt probably won't ever get used to his jumpy pulse either, so it's a two-way street. Matt sits at the end of the bed.<br/>“If I'm honest.” He starts.”I thought it was a long shot, when we asked you to work with us.”</p><p>After the events of An Understanding, Frank is ordered by Claire to stay in the base and heal up. The other Defenders and friends adjust to the awkward presence of the Punisher lurking around the base. Meanwhile, Matt seems to be avoiding him following letting slip his feelings in a moment of worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Us

**Author's Note:**

> When I say 'fix-it' up there in the tags I very much mean eventually.
> 
> Thanks to squirrel_whisperer for putting up with my crap for however long it's been now since I started this thing and reading everything for me (several times lol I've been shuffling a while). <3
> 
> Also thanks to Crowfether for reading and feeding back, sorry again for chapter 5.

It’s like the eerie calm that follows a storm, when the wind drops and the sky brightens and tries to pretend that the lightning ever happened. Except it can’t because there’s water everywhere and the trees are all shaken up and… Jessica is letting this metaphor run away with her. It’s not so much everything being wet that’s the problem it’s the looming presence of the Punisher, who Jessica began to fail to find intimidating within five minutes of meeting but everyone else is almost comically nervous of. Nobody, even Frank himself, is going to argue with Claire’s enforced sentence of bed rest until further notice. Claire’s fear factor far outranks that of Frank Castle for everyone.

Matt is definitely acting weird since his little outburst. God it’s so hard to tell though, history with Karen and Claire was pretty easy to spot because, Jess realises on reflection, they act like there has been something there, but Matt himself is notoriously hard to read. With some things, anyway. It is sort of ironic that he finds it so hard to lie directly, considering. Of course, as Foggy had to point out when she was talking it through with him (of course with no reference to what she was talking about), he has no trouble at all lying indirectly which was probably how he was managing to so discreetly keep his head above the water with this one. No-one seems to suspect anything except Jessica who is watching him like a hawk. Any time Frank comes into a room, Matt seems to casually make himself scarce a few seconds beforehand.

Jessica wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t so convinced it’s the opposite of what Frank needs right now. The last thing they want to end up with is a stir-crazy Frank, currently functioning trigger-finger or not. Jessica hangs around the base, not always in the same room, just to keep an eye on him as often as she can between jobs. He’s camping out in the room with all the bunks. It’s the one she would have chosen, opposite corner from the door. She wanders in a few days after it happened to find him propped up on a pillow. He’s grabbed a newspaper from somewhere.  
“Hey Castle.” She says. He grimaces and raises his bandaged hand.  
“Drink?” She holds up a mug of coffee. There’s a bottle of whiskey hanging by the neck from her other hand. He glances at it. “This is for me. You’re on antibiotics.” She says, knowing full well that’s not what the look is for. He doesn’t say anything though, just takes the coffee and thanks her with the usual level of gruffness. Something about having it in his hand seems to relax him, which is ridiculous because the caffeine is going to do just the opposite and he knows that. What he doesn’t know is it’s half strength made up with decaf and she doesn’t plan on telling him that either.

“So.” She sits on a nearby bunk.  
"So." He says back, eyeing her carefully. His face is on lockdown. It has been since he woke up, fever down and had thanked her, straightforward but deeply grateful. Since then he's been very guarded. The wall is up again.  
"Doing ok?" She says. He pauses briefly, and Jess imagines she can almost hear the little tactical part of his mind do a quick inventory of possible responses.  
"Better." He says. "Thanks." Jess settles because if she's going to get this conversation to go where she wants it to, it's going to take some time.  
"Everyone being ok? I mean, I noticed Foggy doing that face he does when you were in the kitchen the other day."  
"What face?"  
"Dunno how to describe it, like he's freaked but sort of dealing anyway." She attempts to demonstrate.  
"Oh you mean this?" Frank does it, then, and Jess blinks because he gets it spot on, lips pressed together a bit, brow a little drawn in, hint of glazed exasperation around the eyes. He presses his lips tighter and gives his head a little shake, staring right at her. She laughs and he drops it again. "...That's not just... His face?" Frank says slowly, one of those loose smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
"You are an asshole." She says with a kind of vague sigh, trying not to smile. He drops his head against his chest and chuckles before he takes a sip of coffee. She takes a drink herself and leans back against the wall.  
"Seen Matt around?" He freezes almost undetectably.  
"Nah not so much." He says casually.  
"Not spoken to you at all?" She says, trying to say it offhand.  
"Maybe a 'hey' or two here and there." Frank says. He hasn't raised his head yet.  
"I guess he's been busy." Jess says.  
"Jones." Frank looks up a little and gives her a small, wry smile from under his brow. "You wanna ask me if I remember anything or what?" She wants to curse because dammit she should have known he'd call her out on her subtlety. Frank is not a fan of subtlety, as a rule, which usually suits her just fine, but it isn't her potential feelings on the line here.  
"Ok. What do you remember?" She says flatly. He shrugs.  
"Red showed up like the goddamn cavalry- again- and you got me to take some pills. Remember that 'cause you had to persuade me to move, an' I wasn't best pleased about that at the time."  
"That's it?" She says, knowing the answer.  
"Nah." He sighs. "Look, Jessica. I appreciate what you said, I do. An' anything else... Well Murdock's a grownup an' I'm not goin' anywhere for a while, so." He shrugs.  
"Ok." She nods. "Fair." Jess gets to her feet. "I got some photos to shoot. Take it easy. Play nice with Foggy, ok?" He chuckles.  
"Sure. I owe him one. Or, y'know. Several." Frank says. Jess laughs darkly because shit, if that isn't the sort of situation that's straight up impossible to know how to deal with. 'Sorry I messed up your case.' Doesn't really begin to cover it.  
"I'll be around if you need me." She tells him, and leaves. She shakes her head and sighs as she makes her way towards the kitchen. Fuck. Of all the goddamn luck. The two most emotionally impossible men she knows just had to fall for each other.

*

Somehow, nobody warns Karen. Frank is fairly mobile without the help of a crutch by the time the base is used to having him around, like a permanent awkward part of the furniture. Jess is sniping at him about the beard situation, both in the kitchen, or actually Jess is in the kitchen and has bullied Frank into one of the chairs over in the lounge area.  
“It’s just getting stupid man, you look like you’re gonna get mice living in there.”  
“It ain’t that bad…” He’s laughing at her. She waves a spoon at him, leaning against the counter with her elbow.  
“You look like a homeless man.” She says seriously. He does one of his dumb fight-me smiles.  
“I mean technically…” He gestures to himself and raises his shoulders.  
“Yeah but you don’t gotta flaunt it.”  
“Are you eating breakfast cereal at 8pm?”  
“It’s 9 actually.” Jess doesn’t hear any footsteps over the sound of the coffee machine doing it’s thing with the espressos so it’s movement in the corner of her eye that she sees first. A swaying walk and a swing of blonde hair.  
“Hey Karen.” Jess says as she walks in from the foyer, half a dozen folders in her arms. She smiles brightly and waves at her, then freezes before she has so much as opened her mouth to say hi back. Jessica follows her gaze and immediately wants to kick herself. Frank’s face has gone sort of tight and he has the foresight to heave himself out of the chair before Karen regains a hold on herself enough to throw her folders to the ground and stalk towards him. Jessica knows that look.  
“Whoa whoa whoa, Karen-” Jessica moves quickly to intercept because Frank looks like he’s going to let her hit him, he’s just standing there with that pained expression he gets when Claire is lecturing him about his numerous bad habits.  
“You’re in trouble, man.” Jessica tells him in an undertone. Frank just grunts and shrugs. “No, really that’s her Krav Maga face, what the fuck did you-”  
“He crashed a _car_ into the one I was _driving_!” Karen is basically growling the words, trying to get around Jess but she has her hands up in a sort of barrier.  
“Oh my god.” Jessica groans. “You’re her gun.”  
“What?” Frank mutters blankly. Jessica just drops her shoulders and rolls her eyes, letting out her breath in one long exasperated sigh, because what can she even do? 

Karen dodges round her then, using her resignation as a diversion, and she does hit him. Frank just sort of takes it with a half-hearted block which doesn’t seem to discourage Karen. In fact, if Luke Cage hadn’t appeared out of the ether at that exact moment, Jessica has no doubt that there would have been another round of newspapers sporting ‘Frank Castle is Dead’ headlines.

 He’s got this calming aura around him, Luke. That’s why she liked him if she’s honest. Probably all those years of keeping a bar. He sort of soaks up trouble. Jess watches Karen’s rage get siphoned out of her. She grabs Frank before he falls over and steers him back to the chair (for the sake of his dignity; she has hoisted less injured men bigger than him right off the ground) deposits him there and slaps Karen cheerfully on the shoulder on the way back into the kitchen area.  
“Coffee?” She offers. Karen stiffly follows her into the kitchen, deliberately not looking at Frank, and leans against the counter with her arms folded.

*

Frank's not sure how it happened. Sure Red had been... Attentive. Never seemed like more than the sort of attention that was to be expected. Not when he's been known to... Frank shifts against the wall and takes a swig from the flask lid. They'll miss him soon. Not that he couldn’t leave any time he wanted, but they _worry_. Frank doesn't really know what to do with that, so he avoids it where possible. Tries to resent it. Can't bring himself to.  _You're one of us._ He smiles at the memory, half-unbalanced from the thought of it. Dizzy, like he's been hit on the head, or like he's drunk on it. A buzzing sort of relief. Maybe he's going soft. Takes another drink. Doesn't matter. Not really. See, it's been easier. Or... Not easier. Steadier. Doesn't lose himself so much.

Jones was right when she said the lone wolf thing was doomed from the start, but he'd known that. From the beginning it had just been a temporary existence, straining against his own limitations, but he had never expected to live to the burnout. Never planned to, even. Just had to work until it was over. Just had to drag himself to the finish. Didn't expect to survive it, if he's honest. Didn't know what to do when he found himself stinking of gasoline, reeling and shaking and not a bit numb, in a windowless safe house, still achingly, inescapably Frank Castle. He'd picked up, dragged himself back to the job, any job, because what else was he now? Karen had told him he had the right to know, or that's what he'd heard what the time. Wasn't until he'd felt himself stretch past where the breaking point really ought to be, hurt in ways he didn't know he could anymore, lost that tenuous grip on himself, wasn't until it all snapped back that he came to suspect she meant _deserved_. To see what he was. Drifting without the anchor of his duty. Unable to hollow himself out like he'd tried to, like gouging out his own insides so he didn't have to feel it. Matt would say it was a good thing. Irrelevant. Small comfort if it's something you know you can't shake anyway.

Weakness, maybe. Softness, possibly. Sometimes you gotta stop and stitch yourself up just to keep going, even if you don't much care what happens to your body, otherwise. Why shouldn't the mind be the same? He'd been about to break or, well, slip or fall or something that maybe he's done so many times by now that there shouldn't be anything left to damage. Someone told him once, your mind won't let you remember pain, just to keep it hurting the same next time. Not useful information really, not when there's a drill going through your foot anyway. Strangely stabilising to know it's just your brain trying to protect you. That it will only feel like the worst thing that has ever happened to you until it's over. But if you can prevent it, if you know how... Isn't that what pain is for?

He screws the lid back on the flask -awkward, his right hand isn't healed yet- and feels the familiar charged sensation sit itself over the usual furniture. They won't like that he's risking coffee so soon but he thinks he might get away with it, he had to have something familiar. Just to make it all seem real.

When he climbs back down and moves through the kitchen area, he grimaces. Karen- Ms Page- is sitting demurely on one of the couches, legs crossed, eyes focused on a file. He opens his mouth to greet her and a sudden burn in his stomach makes him close it again. Shame is becoming a permanent part of his internal environment and it's a different kind of ache than guilt. Different when he isn't grinding it away with violence. Or, at some point, maybe that just stopped working. If it ever really did.

 He's washed out the flask and is on the way out when Karen sighs.  
"Surprised you still have to drink that stuff." She says, voice cold. "What with being dead and all." He stops, swallows, can't bring himself to face her. He's never been a coward. Karen Page scares the shit out of him. He’s never succeeded at hiding from her.  
"M'uh, know it don't mean much, but I uh-"  
"Don't you dare, don't you dare say you're sorry." Her voice is steel, cold, hard, piercing.  
"Ok." He nods. Swallows again, still can't turn around. It sounds like she is still facing away.  
"Did, did I hurt you?" His voice comes out choked. He coughs.  
"Hmm, you crashed your car into the one I was sitting in, what do you think?"  
"I was wrong."  
"You think?" She lets out an angry breath and mutters. "Not in any danger my ass."  
"You were right." He says, tries to be blunt. She laughs at that, low and humourless.  
"No. I wasn't right. In the end you made your choice." He takes a few steps closer to the exit. Stops.  
"I'm not dead." He says suddenly, heavily. "Just so you know, it uh, it didn't work. Didn't help." She sniffs.  
"What, you want me to say 'I told you so'? Your pain doesn't do anything for me, Castle. I'm not you." And that one lands, harder than her knuckles, right under the ribs. For a moment he can't breathe. She's not done with him yet. "And if you thought it would give me some kind of satisfaction to know that, you haven't learned a thing."

It's Murdock who comes to see him first. Actually seeks him out for the first time since... That day. Maybe he can smell the pain, like a dog.  
"You doing alright, Castle?" He says. Cuts out the shit. Part of why he's good as a leader.  
"You speak to Page?" He doesn't look up from his newspaper. Not to be impolite, but because it probably doesn't matter either way to Matt.  
"She doesn't hate you, you know. But you didn't just hurt her arm that night."  
"Yeah. I know." It's easy to admit things to a human lie detector. Mostly because there's not much choice in the matter. "Don't expect her to forgive me." Matt snorts. Frank looks up in time to catch his grin. Damn, Matt's smile is something else.  
"I didn't expect her not to _kill_ you, but here you are."  
"Do you want me here?" Frank says. Needs to hear it from Matt, just to know it wasn’t a fever dream. "The team." He adds, just in case. His face tingles with the memory of Matt's hands. "Y'know, if not for Claire." Matt moves into the room.  
"Frank." He says, voice quiet. "Breathe." Frank flushes. Never going to get used to the hearing thing. Invasive. Like chaining a man to a roof and taping a gun to his hand. Matt probably won't ever get used to his jumpy pulse either, so it's a two-way street. Matt sits at the end of the bed.  
“If I'm honest.” He starts.”I thought it was a long shot, when we asked you to work with us.”  
“You uh, thought I'd say no?”  
“Can you blame me?” Matt smiles a little. “First time I tried it didn't go so well.”  
“Yeah I uh, well you know how great everything turned out for me after that.”  
“Mm.” Matt nods. “So thought I better try, you know…”  
“...Even if I was just gonna prove myself to be irrational and dangerous, huh?”  
“But you didn't.”  
“Guess not.” Frank says, shifting.  
“We’ve done good together, Frank.”  
“Even though you hate what I do.” It's not a question, just a statement. Matt just smiles.  
“You're trying. We owe it to you to have your back.”  
“Don't owe me.” Frank half chokes the words, stomach churning at the idea that they could ever owe him anything.  
“Mm well.” Matt stands and turns to leave. Lingers in the doorway for a moment.’”Looks like you’re one of us now if you like it or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're her gun." is a reference to when Karen and Trish got drunk together and had a barely metaphorical rant about men in part 1 (loosely organised).


	2. Right

They're alone, they must be, because Matt's yanked back his helmet and is holding it in one hand. He sweeps his hair to the side in that practiced way of his. Moves his head, weaves it side to side in that way that makes Frank feel like he's being X-Rayed. Bounces his helmet up and down in his hand. His tick. Or one of them. The same nervous energy that would usually manifest as his habit of twisting his hands on the handle of his stick. Both of them are caught up in that post-fight buzz. Not a bad feeling or a good one. Intense. Frank can't stand still, that's how it comes out in him, pacing a little on the spot. He clenches his fist on his twitching finger.  
"We should head back." He says, because Matt isn't moving and his gun is heavy. And because the rush is fading and he's noticing the curve of Matt's waist again.  
"Wait." Matt says, and Frank wonders what he's done wrong, or wrong by Matt’s standards. Wonders until Matt steps towards him and reaches out. Rests his hands on his upper arms, open-palmed and light.

Frank sucks in a gasp just to steady himself because he's wanted this, _he's wanted this_ but the fantasy has always died half-formed in his mind and he's had to cast it aside again and again because it always gets caught on a vision of Matt in a tiny wooden room confessing it all to a stranger in the dark. He's sure that's why they've never spoken of what Matt showed him that day, the one that Frank can hardly remember, when he came to them with no-where else to go. The image hits him again and something cracks and he's speaking without meaning to.  
"Don't you do this, don't do this if you're gonna end up in a box apologising for it, Red." His voice is a choked whisper, even to himself. His knuckles are white, clenched on Matt's shoulders, pushing him away while every part of him only wants to pull him closer. "I don't want it to be somethin' you hate yourself for." And it's selfish, he knows that even as he spits the words through gritted teeth. Why should he have the right to be anything more than a bullet for Matt to put in his own head if he wants it? A painful diversion. "'Cause it's good." He grinds out the words. "It's somethin' good Red. For once." His voice breaks and he drops his head, pinches his eyes shut. Matt releases him, hands lifting from Frank’s forearms. Frank does feel hollow, then, a deep, painful space that Matt has carved out for himself, that he settled in just for a moment.

Frank moves to turn his head away, let him go without having to watch him leave, but Matt's hands catch his face. Frank presses his cheek against Matt's hand, the bruised one, just to feel the ache. It was easier when the same hands were hitting him.  
"I don't care what I'm supposed to believe." Matt says, soft and low. Thumbs stroking his mouth like he did that first time. A gentle tingling washes over Frank's shoulders and down his back like he's hearing classical music. "This can only be good."  
"Ain't that what they teach you?" Frank smiles but it's his fighting smile, when he doesn't know what else to do, when bravado is the only card left to play. "About the devil?"  
"Maybe it's you who should worry about the devil." He can hear the smile in Matt's voice because his sense of humour is unexpected and strange. He slides his hands behind Frank's head and Frank can't help but let out a shuddering breath when their foreheads touch. He brings his hands up to cup Matt's face, feeling his warm, rough jaw, letting his body sag because it's too _right_ and he has no choice but to surrender to this thing, whatever it is. Can't open his eyes. Not yet. Not ever, if he can help it.

"Frank." And Matt doesn't need to say anything else because he knows what that tone means. He breathes in and out, slowly. Tries, but his heart is still going going going. He'd be numb to it if he didn't know Matt could hear it, clear as a bass drum. But he doesn't want to run. Somehow, mercifully, he doesn't want to run. Frank drops his hands and loops them up to grip the back of Matt's shoulders, pulling him closer and earning a little huff of amusement or surprise. Their faces are so close, their noses brush, he can feel Matt's lips hovering close enough to tickle the hair on his cheek.  
"I won't apologise." Matt mumbles, quiet. Frank wants to say something rough, something harsh. Pull him closer because Matt has nothing to apologise for to anyone. Should never think he has, but then Matt is kissing him.

Every tense sensation he hadn't realised he was feeling is abruptly blotted out. His body stills. Really stills. There's nothing but Matt, pressing against him, lips soft, impossibly soft between the scrape of stubble. His back is against the brick but he doesn't remember it happening and it doesn't matter anyway. Frank's breath catches and stutters when Matt gently breaks contact. He opens his eyes then, chest contracting with the sight of Matt's lips slightly parted, cheeks a little flushed, eyes half open.

Matt's mouth is sweet. Not like sugar, just the gentle, earthy taste of him is pleasant in a way that Frank knows his own can't possibly be. He laughs suddenly, breathlessly. Doesn't close his eyes as he leans towards Matt, more tentatively than he means to so that it's Matt who has to close the distance again. Matt tilts the angle of his head to lick gently into his mouth. Moves his leg, his hips, to push Frank into the wall. Frank murmurs a groan. Lips vibrate with it. His hands curve at Matt's waist. Can't bring himself to tug, just holds on. Teeth clash a little, like a jump of sparks between two points.

Frank is half-slumped against the wall, body barely upright. Treads of his combat boots braced against the concrete. Not numb exactly, pleasantly full of static. Matt’s holding him up. Warm, solid, moulded against him. His thighs, knees, roll against Frank’s and he opens his in response. Matt’s lips leave his and he's mouthing along his jawline.  
“Uhn…” Matt’s voice is soft and breathless. Frank’s heart practically sings at the sound. Vibration on skin. He almost sobs, every nerve in his body glowing with it, every ringing lack of anxiety. A trembling lack of tension in every muscle. Matt’s thighs shift minutely against his and Frank’s hip twitch. Shit. This is everything. Matt’s body shuddering against his, like he's overwhelmed. Frank just riding it out, as Matt’s shifting turns to grinding and Frank has to drop his head forward and bury his face in his shoulder to muffle a long moan. Matt’s whole being cancels it all out, dry land for a drowning man, even as the friction of his body rubs between Frank's legs. Matt has pulled him into the eye of the storm, somewhere charged and electric but calm too, and Frank is holding tight, feeling Matt’s sinewy torso shift beneath the body armour.

Frank’s hips jerk into the rhythmic pressure of Matt’s pelvis, nerves shooting lightning down his thighs and up his spine.  
“Matt…” He breathes the word against his neck. Matt’s body thrums with it and he shudders against him. Frank’s hips go again but that’s all he allows himself. Hands lower now, clasped around the tight muscle of Matt’s ass, Matt’s hands on his belt, yanking. His hand is hot, Frank’s knees shake and Matt is mouthing his ear, Frank helplessly moaning as Matt’s hand slides below his waistband and his fingers close around him.

_BANG_

Frank rears back against the brick, knocks the breath out of himself.  
“Frank.” Matt says it in his ear, one hand back on Frank’s cheek, the other pressing, flat-palmed against his chest. “Just a car.” Frank nods, a few too many times.  
“I know, I know I just-” He grinds out a bitter laugh, takes Matt’s head in his hands. “Can’t do this here.” The world is too close. Cars, sirens, blaring. His gun is digging into his back, he didn’t notice before. Tries to focus on the feeling of Matt’s head between his hands. Hair is damp with drying sweat, soft.  
“Sorry.” Matt says, stroking Frank’s face with a thumb. A slow, gentle sweep that would shut out the world if Frank could let it. Frank catches his hand, wraps his fingers around Matt’s, holds onto the feeling. Shuts his eyes for a moment, tries to keep it safe, somewhere.  
“Let’s get back.” Frank says, hating it. Needing to be somewhere else. Hating that too.  
“My apartment is a couple blocks down.” Matt says, bodyweight lifting smoothly away. Doesn’t go far, lingers close because maybe he knows he’s set Frank adrift. Frank nods. Everything right has thrown everything wrong into sharp, dreadful relief and Matt just asked him to his apartment, his own space and maybe he was prepared for this but that sort of trust is another thing entirely…  
“Frank.” Matt’s voice, level and soft, steadies him. “You coming?” He forces his shoulders down, swings his head back with faked unconcern as if he’s ever fooling a man who can feel his blood pressure for fucks sake. He was doomed from the start. He cracks a smile because what else can he do?  
“Y’asking me back for a coffee, Red?” Matt just smiles and graciously doesn’t mention the blood Frank can feel surging past his ear drums.

*

They come in from the roof, because they’re both conspicuous in full gear with a rifle swinging at Frank’s back. It’s obviously a familiar route, Matt’s hands opening the skylight catch easily and dropping into the dark room below. Frank thinks maybe he should be nervous. As it is, the onslaught of street sounds is too much and all he can think of is getting to any point of refuge. He closes the window behind him and turns to look around. Matt has crossed the room, helmet discarded already, and snaps a light on for Frank benefit. He turns to him. Frank’s breath tightens. Matt’s eyes, unguarded, raw almost, fall somewhere down and to the left. There’s something comforting about that, though he knows Matt can see him any many clearer and more intimate ways. Matt takes a few loose steps towards him and Frank realises he’s standing in a new space and all he’s looked at so far is Matt. He looks around, pacing a bit, taking in the windows, door through to the bedroom, figuring out where the front door is.  
“Nice place.”  
“Liar.”  
“Nah, it’s… what I expected.” Frank says honestly, because he’s never seen a more Matt space in his life. He slings his rifle to the ground beside the chair and shrugs off his coat  
“You going to pretend you didn’t know where I lived?” Matt seems amused rather than annoyed. Frank shrugs a shoulder.  
“Seein’ it through a rifle scope ain’t quite the same.” Frank says and grins because while it isn’t a lie, it’s maybe not the most appropriate thing to say. Matt tries his best to frown rather than smile but Frank’s grinning loosely at him with his head tipped at that angle that he knows wins people over and Matt can presumably sense that because he just snorts and shuffles his feet.  
“Trying to charm me, Castle?”  
“Didn’t I already do that?” He says. Matt shrugs.  
“Want that coffee?” Frank shifts because so long as Matt is close he doesn’t give a shit and right now Matt is too far, the few feet stretching between them like a mile. He knows Matt can’t read his mind but he must be reading his body, because Matt’s moving across the room and Frank backs up because there’s a brick wall between the two floor to ceiling windows and fuck he needs that at his back right now. Matt takes his shoulders and pushes him back the rest of the way and Frank chuckles, everything strange and light and bottomless, like he might float away, heavy combat gear or not. Matt’s working the straps of his vest and he runs his fingers over Matt’s armour looking for the zips and realising he has no idea how the damn thing unfastens. He laughs again, can’t seem to stop smiling. Matt puffs out a laugh himself, guides Frank’s hands to the zips and he yanks at them, own vest falling free. Matt’s hands run along the length of his arms, down his back. Frank peels Matt’s suit back, pulling his arms away from his body for a minute, but then Matt is yanking the pants down too, stepping out of it. Naked but for a pair of black boxers. Frank is stunned and staring for a moment but jogs back to reality to feel Matt yanking at his shirt. Pulls it over his head.

Frank shivers suddenly, exposed, just holding Matt with his hands on either side of his ribs, light, just rests them there without pulling or pushing. Can’t look at Matt’s face, as if there’s any danger of meeting his eyes. Matt takes his hands from where there were starting on Frank’s belt and puts them in his hair, moving slowly. Frank tilts his head forward, closes his eyes and exhales shakily. Soft explosions of tingling rushing down his neck from the touch of Matt’s fingertips. Lets out a soft moan without meaning to. Tries to drop some of the tension from his shoulders. Can’t take it, can’t take Matt treating him like something precious. It’s too much. His hands are stroking Matt’s skin automatically, fingertips tracing, feeling the outline of ribs beneath the muscle. His skin is pale and smooth and soft where it isn’t crossed with scars. He takes a deep breath in and out and occupies himself with that, keeping one hand against Matt’s ribs and using the other to trace Matt’s scars. Two deep ones beneath his collarbones draw his eyes first.  
“Do you want to stop?” Matt says quietly, stroking his hair with gentle sweeps of his hands.  
“N-no please…” Frank tugs him closer with as much force as he will allow which isn’t much. Matt follows his touch though, lets him guide his torso closer. Drops his head onto Matt’s shoulder. Lets his hips bump Matt’s once. Matt smiles into the top of his head.  
“Stop me if I go to fast.” Matt tells him. Frank nods and slides his hands down Matt’s waist, flat palmed and a touch firmer this time. Matt sighs, breath hot against Frank’s scalp.

Matt takes one hand from Frank’s hair, still combing the other through it, closes it around Frank’s hip and pushes his pelvis into Frank’s. Slots their legs together, one of his between Frank’s, one of Frank’s between Matt’s. Pushes forward, Frank’s backside pressing into the brick behind him. He shudders a breath, Matt’s legs rubbing into his through his combat pants. He gives in to the friction, Matt groaning lightly, Frank’s breath coming tight and uneven as Matt presses against him. Matt drops his other hand from Frank’s hair to drop to run over his torso, as Frank’s stroke the skin of Matt’s tighter, more slender body. He’s like a live wire. Matt’s being so gentle that Frank has to tug him forward. Push back, coax him into a grind like he had been doing back in that alleyway.

Matt’s moving, moving, moving, Frank bumps back against the wall with every thrust, shuddering and his head is clearing again, the right feeling returning, making everything else not matter. Nothing is more important than this. Matt is gasping softly even as he drags his hips to meet Frank’s, hot with friction. Frank jerks his hips into Matt’s whenever he loses control but forces himself lax. Matt has to take the lead right now. Doesn’t know why. Matt shifts to change the angle and his hands are on Frank’s belt. Frank helps him yank them down and is planning on taking them off altogether but Matt’s hand has turned to iron on his hip bone and his other hand closes around his cock and the rest of the world seems to freeze and reel around that one bright point of sensation.

“Ahnn-” Matt’s lips meet his and muffle the cry which came out higher and breathier than Frank believed was possible, and Matt is gripping and stroking and still moving against him. There’s no stopping Frank’s hips now, he’s too lost to the moment, writhing and thrusting in the hot, electric space between Matt’s body and the wall. He tries to reach for Matt’s crotch but Matt makes a noise of dissent and pushes Frank’s hand away and against the wall by the wrist. Matt’s not touching him hard but his palm is soft, his fingers callused, alternate textures making Frank’s body spike and buzz with intensity. He pushes his tongue past Matt’s lips and tilts his head, trying to give something back if he won’t let him touch him. Puts his other hand in Matt’s hair, soft, so soft, mussing up that deliberate side sweep. Matt makes a kiss-muffled ‘Mm’ and the vibration along with a gentle tug on his cock get’s Frank moaning and gasping and bucking his hips uncontrollably, Matt redoubling his grinding and breaking the kiss to return with a harder one, Frank putty under his hands, as he grips him harder and pulls. Frank’s breath alternately gasps and catches, everything hot and glowing and… He drops his head and shoves himself into Matt’s hand desperately, mouth closing on the base of Matt’s neck, mouthing and sucking and groaning as Matt’s other arm loops around his back and holds him as he climaxes.

Matt buries his face against the top of Frank’s head. He releases him, loops his other arm around his back. Holds him up, Frank panting and shaking with the aftershock. He lets Matt support him for a moment, small sounds he can’t help slipping out between breaths, body slack and trembling. He puts his hands back on Matt’s waist, puts his head back up again to catch a kiss, steadies himself against the wall. Matt’s lips are parted in a relaxed little smile, face flushed, panting gently, eyes half closed and falling in his vague direction. Matt’s still wearing his boxers, still covered but Frank can feel him against his leg, still hard. Doesn’t think, just takes Matt’s shoulders. Swaps their places, steers him backwards against the wall. Drops to his knees.  
“Frank you don’t have t-to-” Matt’s words choke off in a gasp when Frank scoops his shorts out of the way and takes him into his mouth.

Matt’s senses must make this… well Frank can’t imagine, can’t begin to, when Matt had him thoughtless and overwhelmed with just a hand. Does he feel it more? Frank licks slowly, carefully, willing Matt to take it for himself, Matt who knows his own limits. Matt’s hands trail, still maddeningly gentle, from Frank’s shoulders, up his neck to his hair. Frank moans with the sensation, sucking, circling the tip with his tongue and winning a lost little gasp, Matt’s head falling back against the wall. His hands tangle and ball up in Frank’s hair and he smiles a bit around Matt’s shaft, willing Matt to hold him harder. Frank stays slow, teasingly gentle, moving his head with a drawn out rhythm that makes Matt whine and tighten his hands. Frank strokes his thumb against his waist with one hand and lets the other trail down, runs his fingertips along the soft flesh of Matt’s inner thigh. Matt trembles and then Frank goes deeper, tightens his lips, and feels Matt’s body tense in response. Matt moans and Frank with him as his hips twitch into him gently, Frank drawing back to coax another thrust out of him. Another, rewarding him with pressure, sucks harder as he does, Matt’s hands yanking him a little now, not too hard but exactly as Frank wants it, pushing himself into his mouth as Frank teases his balls with his other hand. Matt’s thrusts get a little frantic, low moans turning into cries, hips jerking. A hum and a gentle squeeze are all it takes, Matt’s groan comes from somewhere deep, hips shuddering, cock pulsing with the last few thrusts. Frank swallows around him until he slows and his body sags under Frank’s hands.

Matt sinks to the ground beside him and Frank gets his arms around his chest, around his shoulders. Matt’s arms wind around him, hot skin on skin, head falls against his chest, face slack but lips tugged up in a kind of dreamy smile. Frank leans them both back against the wall and drops his mouth against the top of Matt’s head, tangles their legs together. He’s still wearing his pants. Still wearing his boots. He laughs at that.  
“Mm?” Matt says against his skin.  
“Didn’t even get all the way out of our clothes.” He explains. Matt laughs too. If he wants to move up from the floor and onto the couch or the bed, he doesn’t say so, just allows Frank to keep him wrapped in his arms. Anchored around Matt’s body as he gets his breath back, slackened against Frank and holding on as if he needs the contact as much as Frank does.

*

Frank doesn't doze exactly, but it's a bit like waking up when he feels Matt very carefully disentangle himself from Frank's arms. Matt stands, tugging at his arm gently. He mumbles that he doesn't want to move.  
"Bed. S'cold." Matt yawns and Frank's chest stings with something he can't identify.  
"Need a shower." He says stupidly, still planted heavily on the ground, looking for up at him. Matt just laughs.  
"Don't worry I'm filthy, got fresh sheets, needs changing anyway." Frank can't really formulate another decent argument as to why he doesn't feel like he belongs in Matt's bed, clean or dirty, and before he can think too hard about it, Matt gets his hands around Frank's arm. Matt half pulls him to his feet and the two of them stagger sleepily across the apartment. Frank still limps a bit when he's tired and Matt seems mildly alarmed, automatically steadying him by the shoulder. Frank chuckles tiredly and puts an arm around Matt's waist.  
"I'm fine, Claire fixed it up, m’just not all the way there yet." Matt looks like he's going to say something but just smiles and shakes his head.

Frank kicks off his pants because he's pretty sure they have blood on them. Matt leads Frank into bed, maybe he can sense his hesitation, but once he's there he can't help but tug Matt against his chest. Buries his face in his hair. He's not bigger than Matt, just a bit bulkier around the chest, but Matt is... He's not weak or breakable and God knows Frank has no chance against him in a fist fight. Something about Matt has Frank holding him tightly, hot skin on skin as if he can be a shield for everything Frank has lost. All that hope Frank just can't understand how he clings to despite... Despite everything. Matt yanks the blanket over them and then his fingers find Frank's and he weaves them together. Shuffles back to press his body against Frank's chest. Frank feels his own body still like he'd forgotten it could. Some deep exhaustion hits him hard and all at once, and pulls him down into sudden warm silence.


	3. Coffee

Frank is warm. Somewhere impossibly soft. There's the faint sound of a siren and a dog barking. A kid is laughing in the street. Slow, steady breaths against the back of his neck. He blinks his eyes open. A bit of light spills into the room through from the living area. Matt's arms are looped around him and his chest is pressing into his back, his body curled protectively around Frank's which must have bunched up as he slept. He holds Matt's arm and waits for his heart rate to pick up. Doesn't really know what to do when it doesn't. Not move. Hold onto this for as long as it lasts.

He dozes, cloaked by that solid feeling of Matt’s arms and chest and steady sleep-breathing. He can feel Matt's heartbeat if he concentrates. Strong and slow. His head is just... Clear. Clearer than he can remember since... No. Not that. Don't think about that. Not now. He listens to Matt's breathing and matches it. It seems like a cosmic mistake. What did he ever do for this to be something he could have? Not the killing. He knows that. Just the awareness that he doesn't want that for Matt is all he needs to know about how he feels about it, really. It's just what he is now. What he's been his whole adult life if he's honest. And Matt... Isn't that. Can't be that.

Matt tucks his arm more tightly around Frank's chest, muscles shifting against his side and Frank lets out a shaky breath. It's too good. Too much, too... His heart's picked up again, he feels it with the all too familiar spreading sense of dread that he knew would come back but fuck, why couldn't it have just held off for another five minutes? Matt's breathing has changed. Lips press into the back of his neck. Arms tighten again. Matt speaks, voice rumbling gently against Frank's skin.

"Morning sunshine." Frank's laugh bursts out of him so quickly that it gets caught and stutters into a wheezing cough. God, has he ever laughed so easily? Matt's laughing too, squeezing him around the middle with his face pressed against Frank's shoulder. And maybe that's all he needs, the idea that maybe this is kind of funny, really. That they're here in bed together after everything that's happened. Their bodies rock together with laughter and it takes a while to simmer down.  
"I need to take a shower." Frank says because he's actually still sticky and for some reason it didn't matter last night. Matt chuckles again, low in his stomach.  
"You're telling me." Frank can feel his smile against his skin and it's like it transmits through to his own mouth because he's smiling too without even meaning to.  
"Let me, then." He says, wriggling. Matt only holds on more tightly.  
"Nah." He says into Frank's back. "Just stay here a bit longer."  
"Not that I don't appreciate bein' held onto like a giant stuffed bear." Frank says. "But I gotta be crushing your arm."  
"Don't care." Matt says, voice muffled by Frank's flesh.  
" _I_ care."  
"Mm." Matt doesn't move.  
"Didn't we fall asleep the other way?" Frank says, settling comfortably against Matt.  
"Mm." He says again, getting his arm out from under Frank’s ribs and running it through his hair instead. Frank's breath gets choppy and he moves his head against Matt’s fingertips. "You uh." Matt starts but cuts himself off, shakes his head. "I wanted to." He says instead of whatever it was he was going to say. Frank nods. Doesn't pursue it. He runs a foot along Matt’s shin, rubbing their legs together.  
“We must stink, right?”  
“You have no idea.” Frank rolls to face him, catches his lips with his. It’s messy, neither of them can stop grinning for long enough kiss properly. Matt has pretty heavy morning breath and Frank’s is probably worse even without taking super senses into account. He pulls back to get a better look at him, hair ruffled, face and eyes soft with sleep. Stubble just a little too ragged to appear deliberate. Matt pushes his hand through his hair and to the back of his head so he can tip Frank’s forehead to his.

Matt's alarm is quiet and it sounds like chimes. He groans and rolls, groping for his phone on the side table, body heat moving away. Frank rolls into his back.  
"Where you gotta be?"  
"Meeting Foggy at base, not for a couple of hours. Think he likes to check I'm remembering to eat." Matt flops back down onto the blankets.  
"Scared the shit out of him the other day." Frank says a little guiltily.  
"Mm?"  
"Just gettin' a coffee. Don't think he was expecting me to be there, y'know." Matt snorts. "Made him one. Don't think it uh, don't think it _helped_."  
"I don't think he's _completely_ convinced you didn't shoot him that time."  
"I did shoot _you_." Frank shifts uncomfortably.  
"Mm but to be fair I punched you in the head a lot."  
"Don't." Frank rolls and presses his face against Matt's shoulder, covers his chest with one arm.  
"Ok." Matt tucks his arm around Frank's back. "Doesn't take two hours to get up and to base." His fingers find an old scar on Frank's back and he traces it absently.  
"Mm." Frank says, feeling like a teenager, like he could stay here all day.

They lie like that in silence for a few minutes, then Matt clears his throat in a way Frank would have missed if his bicep wasn't pressed right up against his sternum. He cracks his eyes open to see Matt open his mouth like he wants to say something, but then his brow furrows and he closes it again. He does that a few times and Frank is stuck somewhere between amusement and wanting him to just spit it out.  
"You uh, you've done that before, right?" He says eventually, smiling a little mischievously despite his hesitation to come out with it. Frank chuckles, tightening his arm around Matt's body, knowing Matt can feel his mouth tugging up lopsidedly at the corners from where it's pressing against his shoulder.  
"Don't ask don't tell, Red." His voice comes out in a rough little mumble.  
"Oh. _Oh_ ." And Matt's eyes are wide, his mouth is open, like Frank can still shock him, as if he wasn't sucking him off less than eight hours ago.  
"Hey what about you? You're the Catholic."  
"No not... Well just... A bit back at college, didn't go far." He grimaces and Frank lifts his head, props up on an elbow. He frowns at Matt who's looking a little pained, maybe at the memory, maybe not.  
"But you're ok?" Frank keeps his voice gentle, low, because he knows this. He's done this.  
"What? Yeah, yeah." Matt lifts his other arm around Frank as if in confirmation. Frank watches his face carefully.  
"Ok." Frank says, dropping his head to brush Matt's chest with his lips. "But if you need..."  
"M'fine, Castle." Matt says voice quiet but with a firm edge to it. Frank smiles and rests his head on Matt's shoulder again. Traces his scars with the hand he's still resting on Matt. Lets Matt hold him as tightly as he needs to.

They give it another few minutes and then Matt counts and heaves himself up. His skin is a little bruised from the hits he took on the job last night and Frank isn't at all prepared for the pang of horror he gets from that while Matt stumbles around the room with a less than ninja-ish dexterity, searching for clothes.  
"Your pants are covered." He says with a note of disapproval that Frank doesn't know if he should attribute to the violence that has caused there to be blood all over his pants or the fact that he's managed to get his clothes so messy. Either way, he lets himself look as sheepish as possible in case Matt can pick that up.  
"I'll find you some sweatpants."  
"Thanks."

Matt gets him not only some sweatpants but some boxers and a shirt too. He throws the lot at Frank's head, bundled up in a towel. Frank catches just about, feeling his face break into yet another ridiculous smile when a balled up pair of socks hits him squarely on the nose once his hands are occupied. He jumps up because Matt is too polite to not let him go first and showers with his customary efficiency. Matt's shower gel is scentless of course, and the towel feels like a cloud. The sweatpants are a _little_ tight and the shirt is too which he can't help but feel Matt may have done on purpose. The shirt is also lightish blue but he presumes he can't blame Matt for that.  
"Shower's free." He says, stepping out and towelling his hair dry. Matt's already there. Whaps him on the ass with his towel on the way past. Frank jumps because he was _not_ expecting that.  
“Asshole!" Matt looks just deeply pleased with himself and snaps the door shut behind him.

Alone in the bedroom, Frank's gaze lingers on the very unmade and by now dirty bedspread. It only takes a few opened cupboards to find the clean sheets, folded up on the shelf below the towels with not _overly_ surprising neatness. He makes the bed, automatically, almost thoughtlessly, stuffing the dirty ones in the laundry basket at the other end of the room. The sheets are just astoundingly soft. He's going to have to ask about that. He'd assumed at first it was just the fact that the only real bed he sleeps in these days is in the base, and he avoids that where possible now he isn't under some kind of Night Nurse-enforced arrest. Beds aren't really for sleeping in anyway as far as Frank's concerned. Beds are for kids, the wounded and, well, sharing.

By the time Matt has showered and changed, Frank's collected the dirty laundry and made a pile and is in the process of pulling Matt's costume the right way from when it got yanked inside-out, when Matt steps out of the bathroom. He hooks the door closed behind him with his foot, head covered with his towel. Once it's shut he stops, drops the towel and does a couple of focused head tilts. He has his listening face on. Suddenly it cracks into one of those dazzling smiles of his and he splutters out an incredulous laugh.  
"You changed the bed? You..." He moves to it and bobs down to touch it lightly.  
"What did you use an _iron_?"  
"No I just..." Frank hadn't even thought about it and Matt's acting like he's done something amazing. Matt rises and pulls him into a kiss by the shoulders. He's shaved. Frank strokes his face with one hand once they break away. It's not clean, just a neater shadow.  
"You can shave if you want." Matt smiles and strokes Frank's thickening facial hair. "Not a hint. M'not gonna make you."  
"Think it might be time." He admits, giving the not inconsiderable beard a scratch. Matt's hands go to his hair immediately, running through the damp curls that are already standing up from where he scrubbed at it with a towel. He catches Matt's hands and pulls them into his chest, drops his eyes, smiles a little. People have touched his hair before, but it's never been this long, not since he was a kid and Matt can't seem to _stop_. "I'll leave the hair." Matt kisses him again which he's glad of because he's a little bit hot and overwhelmed with all these things he isn't really sure he knows how to _do_ anymore. Kissing though, he can do that. He hands Matt his now righted suit and moves back across the room to the bathroom.

Bit by bit the hair falls away. He shaves it close with practiced care. Frank's so used to his own reflection looking sort of wild and wraith-like that he's almost shocked at his own, almost oddly familiar face when all is done. Hardly recognises himself. He looks younger with his hair long, not that he's ever looked quite like this. Doesn't have any idea how to style hair, he realises, so he just sort of smooths it back. Not much point anyway, if Matt continues to follow current form it will be ruffled all the time.

When Frank is finished, Matt is gone from the bedroom. Despite himself, Frank can't help the slight spin of earth-shaking fear that maybe... Maybe that was _it_ , maybe for some reason Matt won't...  
"Frank." He looks around to see Matt working the coffee machine and laughs a little nervously. Ok, ok maybe take it slow. No spinning out of control. Hold it together. There's a duffle on the couch, unzipped, his gear is gone from the floor. There's something just breath-shorteningly _wrong_ with the idea of Matt touching his rifle. Tries to ignore that thought gnawing on his stomach as he makes his way across the kitchen.

"Hey..." Matt's close, arm around Frank's waist again and he focuses on that as best he can. Matt strokes his face with the sort of delight that makes a Frank think he should have done this weeks ago if he was going to get this kind of reaction out of him. Fingertips running lightly along his jaw, down his chin, across his cheek. His brow is a tiny bit crinkled, mouth slightly open, the same expression he has on when he reads. Frank runs his hands up and down Matt's torso and tries to commit the shape to memory. Just in case. In case Nelson or Jessica or Karen jogs some sense into him. In case he just doesn't want to do this again. Matt has finished reading him now. He drops his hands with a small, almost bashful smile and Frank quickly scoops Matt's drooping hair to the side before he moves out of reach.

Matt picks up the two mugs and hands one to Frank.  
"Black, one sugar. It's half strength." Frank tries to summon enough disdain for an eyeroll but doesn't quite get there.  
"S'ok I slept last night." He says without thinking. Matt frowns at that but doesn't say anything. Matt's apartment looks different in the light of day, now everything isn't splashed with the haphazard light from that billboard. There's something calm about the open space and the simplicity of the place. He joins Matt leaning up against the counter. Matt puts his cup down after just a sip. He turns his head away, twists his hands together.  
"Don't disappear." Matt says, like he's trying to be blunt but his voice has a slight croak to it.  
"What?" Frank turns to him.  
"After this. Don't do that."  
"Wasn't gonna..."  
"If you decide you don't want... If you decide that. Don't just go." Frank stares at him, face still turned deliberately away.  
"Matt." He turns to face Frank then, maybe because it's just a bit rare for him to use his name. "Only way I'm leavin' is if you want me to." He says heavily.  
"Why would I want that?" Matt seems incredulous which is... Frank's not sure what it is but it actually _hurts_ .  
"Why?" He splutters. "Because I'm- because I-"  
"Don't." Matt kisses him suddenly, more forcefully than he has done yet, shoving him up against the kitchen counter with his soft-clothed body. Frank untangles himself for just long enough to put his cup down. Then he kisses Matt back, feeling his stubble against his newly smooth chin. Tasting coffee on his tongue. He breaks the kiss.  
"We got time for this?"  
"Plenty of time." Matt mutters and then _he's_ on his knees and Frank wants to object but sweatpants are _really_ easy to get someone out of and Matt is... Frank tries to say something, maybe his name, maybe tell him that they have to leave in the next ten minutes or they're going to be late, but all that comes out is an incoherent moan and he has to grab Matt's head to stop his hands from shaking.

God if he thought Matt's _hand_ was a lot, this is so much _more_ . And it's clumsy and messy because Matt's not done this before but damn if he isn't a fast learner. He's got his hands on both sides of Frank's hips and he's pressing him back against the counter and Frank relaxes because this way he can't thrust in, even unintentionally. He slides one hand through Matt's hair and around his ear. Matt's bobbing his head and sucking and _licking_ and Frank has to throw his head back and not watch Matt's lips sliding over him, eyes half closed in concentration, because he's overwhelmed as it is and it's _too much_ . Spots burst on the insides of his eyelids and he drops his head again, panting like he's running for his life. Knees want to buckle but then this would _stop_ which would _not_ be... Matt goes deeper, angles his head and pulls back, licks, takes it in again, sucks harder and Frank groans and it's all he can do to not just let his legs collapse right there because _Jesus_ maybe his super senses make this... Maybe he's reading Frank's body somehow because for someone who's _never done this before_ he's really... _really_... Fuck... Frank has to move one hand to Matt's shoulder just for support. Matt's going for it now with the tongue and the hot, wet pressure and Frank is ten kinds of helpless, moaning, gasping, head spinning, whole body shaking with it, and Matt groans against him as everything reaches critical levels. Frank's half crying out, breathless, almost sobbing, as everything just overwhelmingly sweeps away in a huge tide of sensation.

He collapses, _actually collapses_ when he's spent and Matt has to grab him and lower him down, laughing softly, touching his hair. Matt's leaning over him, lifting his head up with one hand so he can kiss him lightly. Frank tries to speak but everything he wants to say is a mangled mess of 'Jesus' and 'Matt' and nothing much more than a breathless moan comes out anyway. Matt looks almost concerned, but Frank takes the hand that's on his face and brings it to his lips to kiss it. Draws Matt's head to his and kisses his mouth again, deeper, tastes salt, mouths along his cheekbone to his ear and teases the lobe with his teeth. Matt's body does something almost like a violent shudder and Frank breaks away in alarm.  
"No s'good it's great-" Matt says hoarsely. "Don't stop don't-" Frank braces Matt against him and takes his ear between his lips, sucks, runs it over with his teeth, flicks his tongue around the rounded top and Matt's a gasping writhing mess in Frank's arms. Frank reaches down and grips Matt through his pants, slips his hand down past his waistband and into his underwear when he feels how hard he is down there and just gently strokes him as he worries his ear. Matt yells against Frank's neck, hands clenching around his arms as Matt's body convulses with pleasure against Frank and his cock twitches in his hand. He holds him as he rides it out and withdraws his hand to hold Matt's slumping body, half boneless himself. They're both sitting below the kitchen counter in a breathless tangled heap.

"Shit." Frank says eventually. Not a curse, more like a prayer. He's smiling and his body is full to the brim with endorphins and Matt's got his face buried against Frank's pectorals and he's making all these sounds that are making Frank _glow_ somehow.  
"We're gonna be late."  
"Nah we're just not gonna be early." Matt says, muffled by Frank's chest.  
"You're gonna need to change your pants." Matt laughs.

*

It doesn't feel awful walking into base, or uncomfortable or particularly weird but Frank knows how it will _look_. Eight or more years of learned discretion are getting him more on edge than he would ever admit out loud. They walked there arm and arm but Matt has this way of breaking contact without it being awkward once he's somewhere he knows and somewhere where he doesn't have to fake not being able to navigate without his stick. It's Frank who follows Matt through the foyer and through the doorway to the mess.

"What is this an intervention?" Matt says, voice full of the bright grin that Frank knows without being about to see right now. If Matt's nervous about this he's not showing it at all. Frank's hanging back a few steps, but he can just about make out a few more shapes than just Nelson lounging about on the couches and chairs. Jessica's friend Malcolm and, Frank realises with a painful jolt, _Karen_ are sitting with him. _Hold it together_ .  
"We would have tried that by now if we thought it might work, buddy, now it's just a case of damage control- oh." He stops short because Frank has made the decision between awkwardly hanging around in the doorway and actually entering the room and Foggy has spotted him.

"Hey." He says and has to cough because it came out strangely hoarse. Karen has turned in her chair and she's looking at him. Her face is blank. Karen carries herself differently now that she better knows how to protect herself. She's less closed in. It's more that she's confident she won't accidentally hurt anyone though, Frank understands that without quite knowing how. He's not proud of her exactly but the feeling is somewhere close. He makes a quick mental note to get Jess talking to her about wherever that comes from, he doesn't have the right, he knows that.  
“Hey.” Nelson says, fairly cheerful. He’s a lot less rattled than the last time Frank saw him. Maybe it's the allies sitting around him, maybe the coffee _did_ help.  
"Hey you're lookin' almost human." Jess says with a grin and Frank's suddenly very much aware that he's standing there in sweatpants, a blue shirt and a pair of slightly ill-fitting canvas shoes. He does a little half smile which is as good as it's going to get, and wishes violently that he wasn't so damn desperate to run away. _No danger_ . he reminds himself firmly. _Just fucking hold it together you're on thin ice here as it is_ . He passes where Jessica is perched on the arm of one of the couches and touches her shoulder. If she’s surprised by the show of affection, she doesn’t show it. Frank is a few feet from the door, when, with the air of a man who is simply blurting out his thoughts with no filter, Foggy says;  
“Isn’t that Matt’s shirt?”

Frank almost drops the duffel bag, but not quite. He turns back to the room and tries not to look at anyone. Opens his mouth because of course, of _course_ his practiced subconscious has already come up with some excuse as to why he and Matt arrived at the same time and why he’s wearing Matt’s clothes and he just needs to get his mouth unstuck so he can…  
“We ran a mission last night, it got late and Frank stayed the night.” Matt says mildly. The silence ticks on for quite a few heartbeats that Frank is well aware that Matt can hear from across the room. Matt’s thrown him a lifeline here, to take or leave. He either continues as if he’s standing there wearing Matt’s clothes because they had sex, or tell them the exact lie that he had been brewing to make this situation go back to being mildly weird and not at all the insane revelation that it probably will be for Nelson and Karen at least, only now… if Matt wants them to know, if _Matt_ wants them to... The longer the silence drags on, the more _blindingly obvious_ it becomes for everyone that there is something to be awkward about happening here. Frank smiles. Matt does a head tilt and his smile cracks open just a little, into a grin.

Foggy looks between the two of them with rapidly raising eyebrows.  
“And he’s…” Foggy cuts himself off, a _look_ dawning on his face that is something like shock and uncomfortably like horror. Jessica whoops and laughs and claps her hands above her head. Karen’s face has gone completely slack and her eyes have unfocused into a hundred-yard stare. Malcolm looks from Matt to Foggy to Jessica blankly.  
“What? They’re not… are they…” And Matt just smiles and shrugs his shoulders a bit. Frank’s face might be red. His face is definitely red, but it’s not a bad flush and he can’t look away from Matt now because he’s just _told_ them and he’s not… it’s like he’s _proud…_ He takes a couple of steps towards Matt, slow and uncoordinated like he’s drunk. Laughs weakly, takes his shoulders in his hands and kisses him squarely on the mouth before better judgement can spoil the moment. Matt makes a _filthy_ noise and wraps his arms around him. Frank takes his head in his hands and angles his head, gets his tongue with in there, you know, just to prove a point, and also because damn, he could kiss Matt forever. When he breaks contact, Matt’s face is a fucking _picture_ and that’s even considering the look he had on his face when Frank was done with him earlier. Frank’s almost afraid to look round at the others now. Everyone has sort of averted their eyes and Foggy is shuffling his feet and twisting his hands together on his lap looking amused but a bit embarrassed, which, fair enough. When Jessica speaks, her voice is, low and oddly serious, like she’s just witnessed some absolutely important historical event come to pass.  
“I have to call Trish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> squirrel_whisperer and I have integrated what Frank could have potentially gotten up to between joining up at 18 and meeting Maria into our headcanon so completely that both of us occasionally forget that it's not actually canon. Anyway, in this AU, Frank's been comfortable with his sexuality for quite some time so that's all sort of a non-issue for him.
> 
> Yay isn't everything nice? There's definitely no chance of anything bad happening in the next chapter at all nuh-uh.


	4. Lost

It doesn’t take long for Frank to fall into step with the others, now that he has a decent, Matt shaped reason to stick around on a semi-permanent basis. Everyone’s pretty used to having him around already thanks to the tedious recovery time of his, admittedly, pretty extensive injuries a few months ago. Now though, everyone is making sort of an _effort._ Besides, it’s not as if they’re joined at the hip. Frank doesn’t move in. Well, not _entirely_ and both being semi-nocturnal, it’s not as if they have to artificially create space. They have their own projects, they collaborate, act as backup and co-ordinate in a way that is suddenly a lot easier now that everyone has seen Matt Murdock’s tongue down Frank’s throat. It’s spectacularly diffused the tension. Even so, it’s not unusual for Frank and Matt to just miss each other for a few days every so often.

Foggy wanders into base one morning when Jessica and Frank are having some semblance of breakfast, both having not slept. Frank's still in his jacket and boots.    
"Hey Matt!" Foggy calls on the way through the door. "Matt? Oh hi, you two, seen Matt?"  
"He ain't with you?" Frank had been under the impression that they were going for drinks last night. Foggy pulls up a stool beside Frank.  
"Nah, asshole left me a voicemail, something about ninjas and I waited up but..." He shrugs hopelessly. "Wasn't in his apartment this morning." There's a pause. Foggy looks from Jessica to Frank and back again. "You haven't seen him? He didn't call you?" Frank stops chewing his bagel.  
"Should we be worried?" Foggy says shifting. "I'll call Claire." Frank and Jessica looks at each other as Foggy races towards the stairs.  
"Ninjas?" Jessica says tightly. Frank puts his breakfast down. Stomach turning.  
"Didn't mention it to me." He says as evenly as he can manage. She draws in a slow breath.  
"Doesn't he always..."  
"With ninjas? Yeah."  
"Why wouldn't he tell us…” Jessica says slowly, tensely. Frank gets to his feet and Jessica follows suit.  
"What can we do?" Frank says because there has to be a plan. His body is tired, his brain is blunted by lack of sleep, he needs direction to focus on.  
"If it's the Hand... We haven't had a lead for months..." Jessica says with a forced sort of calm.  
"If it is the Hand he woulda told us-" Frank says.  
"Elektra." Foggy bursts back into the room with his phone clutched in one hand. "He's not with Claire. Karen hasn't seen him. If he hasn't told us it's _Elektra_ ." Frank stares because Elektra is _dead_ . Frank _saw it_ . Worse, saw Matt _feel_ it. Foggy wrinkles up his nose in frustration and turns his face away from Frank a bit.  
"Quit giving me the weird confused puppy look man." He says. "Nobu came back, why shouldn't she?" Jessica nods quite a few times.  
"Yeah, yeah he's not wrong and I can't think of any other reason why Matt might keep us in the dark, so that's the leading theory for now." She shoves a hand through her hair.  
"Anyone have any idea how to contact Stick?" Frank shrugs, sees Foggy do the same out of the corner of his eye.  
"I don't think _Matt_ knows how to contact Stick he just sort of _shows up_ ." Foggy is all but ringing his hands.  
"Ok ok ok what do we know." Jessica says letting out a deep breath.  
"Play the message." Frank tells Foggy who immediately fumbles to unlock his phone. He thumbs the speaker button and everyone goes still.  
_"Hey Foggy might have to call it off, gotta follow up a lead. Got jumped by some ninjas and I'm following, can't talk, sorry buddy."_ Frank curses under his breath but Jessica's is louder.  
"Fucking _asshole_ ." It's half scream of frustration.  
"Gotta agree with you there." Foggy says heavily. "But by the look of you, you were both pretty busy." Frank shakes his head.  
"It coulda waited." He growls. Jessica is nodding. The world is buzzing, the adrenalin spreads to his limbs and over-sharpens his vision. His finger is twitching, when did that happen? Closes his fist. Matt. They have to get to Matt. He has to focus because this is _not_ a situation that can be solved with guns. Yet.

Jessica is suddenly very much the leader of what is more recognisably a team than ever. It's a city-wide search, starting from Matt's apartment and spiralling outwards. Eight hours stretch to forty-eight, to seventy-two and Frank and Jessica only sleep when one bullies the other into it under threat of calling Claire. Karen and Foggy have more or less moved into the base. Karen's office- or what Frank internally refers to as such- is strewn with just _not enough_ leads and CCTV stills.  
"How're you holdin' up?" He asks her when he can't hold off any longer. Truth is, he's only seen her close to this distraught once before and he'd rather not think about that. He's leaning on the doorframe, looking in on Karen who is surrounded by two laptops and more paper than the day before. She looks up at him, eyes still distrustful but they soften a little when she catches his eye.  
"You haven't shaved." She points out. He reaches to feel his rough jaw and shakes his head.  
"Haven't thought about it." He admits. Drops his gaze.  
"No." She says heavily. Pushes a hand through her hair to get it out of the way. "All of my leads have gone south so far but ah, Clint may have found something for us."  
"Clint's back?" Frank doesn't exactly brighten at this news but something somewhat steadying comes over him. Clint has always been... Well he doesn't judge and he never treated him like some kind of unexploded bomb.  
"He's on Avengers business but he's in town. Used his Avengers business as an excuse to pull some satellite photos for us and they aren't, _that_ helpful but..."  
"But you found him? A picture of him. From the night he..." Frank is just _going_ at this point, mechanical but duty driven, and his voice doesn't waver as he crouches down beside Karen to see the laptop screen she's turned towards him. It's an aerial view of an apartment block. She taps the blurry but distinctive shape of a man.  
"Here's _Matt_ ." She says. Pulls the picture back, zooms in a few buildings away. "This is the one he's pursuing."  
"Right."  
"So that narrows down our search."  
"Ok." Frank nods, tries not to let anything like hope grow up too much in his chest. "What can I do."  
"Tell Jess." He rises and gets to the door. "Frank." Karen says softly. "We're going to find him." He grunts and nods and goes to find Jessica.

Ninety one hours. Each one is like a fresh bullet wound. They search the usual places, filled in subway tunnels, abandoned warehouses, and somehow they know they won't find anything. They know that if it's the Hand, the usual places won't be of any use. It's 3am and Frank's search has taken him to the docks. His feet are heavy. He needs coffee, his eyes itch and he's staring out at the water and trying to will his feet to move, tries to think about Matt's but that tearing, impossible _void_ is growing and he just can't seem to keep a lid on the panic that is building to some kind of pressure breach if he doesn't find some way of getting it under control.  
"Jesus you're so _loud_ ." Frank spins on the spot, raises his gun. "How does he put up with all that _crap_ coming off you?" Frank has met Stick before, but only during missions and they've barely said two words to each other. Matt doesn't talk about him much and that's really all Frank thought he needed to know. His clothing is tatty but practical, he doesn't look at Frank straight (because he can't) and he moves like a soldier in that fundamental way that puts Frank both more and less at ease.  
"Put the gun down son, we both want the same thing." He lowers it a bit and narrows his eyes.  
"An' what's that." Frank snaps.  
"Don't be so defensive. To find your boyfriend."  
"Y'know." Frank says head tipped back with the open mouthed half grin that he knows Jessica finds absolutely maddening. "It don't work as a taunt if it's _true_ old man." Stick rolls his eyes.  
"You want my help or not." He jerks his head towards an alleyway between two buildings and takes a couple of steps that way. Frank doesn't move.  
"He's been missing for four days and you show up now. Why."  
"Because I found the Black Sky and she has Mattie." Stick's voice is calm, patronising even, but there's an edge of worry to it that is unmistakable.  
"Elektra." Stick shrugs.  
"Whatever you want to call her."  
"This about Red or about your war."~  
"It's _about_ that this is _my fault_ because I didn't kill her myself when I had the chance. Now are y'done wasting time?" Stick does raise his voice then. Frank lowers his gun and nods.  
"Ok. Show me."

It's not actually far from where Frank had been searching. Stick leads him away, grumbling all the time about the stink of sweat and adrenaline and gunpowder and demanding to know why Matt hasn't told him how pervasive and lingering the smell of a double espresso is. By the time he stops walking, he's started on Frank's heart rate and he's about to tell him to shut up in as colourful words as possible, when he gestures at the ground.  
"It's a manhole cover." Frank grunts, unimpressed.  
"It's a manhole cover leading to a tunnel system leading to the longest flight of stairs you'll ever find."  
"And Matt's down there." Frank says because if it isn't true he doesn't know what he's going to do and he has to hear it one last time.  
"Matt is down there."  
"I'm calling Jess."  
"You really want to bring your friends into this?" Frank laughs, low and bitter. He is not about to risk Matt to his own flimsy grasp of his own limitations.  
"Nice try old man." He dials. "But we're standing here now because _Matt_ didn't want to involve us."

" _Frank?_ "  
"I got a lead but it's underground."  
_"Wait there we're coming to you."_  
"Can't wait. You know that. Our boy's been down there too long."  
_"Castle. Where are you?"_ Jessica demands loudly. He reels off the address, the landmarks.  
"I ain't waiting for any backup." Stick warns him.  
"Not askin' you to." Frank says. "Look, Jess, Stick is going in with or without me and I figure we have a better chance together." Stick snorts but doesn't object.  
_"Ok Castle we'll follow you in."_ Jess sighs, resigned. "Don't get dead, alright?"  
"Tried that once. Didn't stick."  
_"Good luck."_   There's a smile in her voice. She hangs up. Frank blows out a breath and flexes his shoulders.  
"Lead the way."

Frank is by now quite used to Matt forgetting that he needs to actually _see_ to get around. Stick is obviously similarly used to working alone because Frank has to get his torch going and then run to catch up because Stick doesn't wait for him.  
"How many stairs we talkin' here?"  
"I haven't been down there myself but it felt like a lot." It _is_ a lot. If Frank was tired before, he's something else by the time his feet hit the roughly cut rock at the bottom of the stairs. But Matt is down here.  
"Contacts." Stick says very quietly and Frank has to swing his torch around to find them, black clad shapes creeping towards them through the gloom.  
"She know we're here?"  
"She ain't down here right now." Stick says.  
"It matter how much noise I make?"  
"No."  
"Good."

He'd never admit it, even to Matt, but Frank has been avoiding heavy close quarters combat. The blood in his nose, the desperate fight reflex kicking in. Doesn't like the place he goes and coming back is worse. But Matt Murdock is down here. Has been down here for ninety two hours and God knows what shape he's in by now. So he gives into it. He's no ninja but he can fire a gun, he can use a knife, and months of fighting right beside the scrappiest assholes in NYC have taught him a thing or two even he didn't know before. Several corridors later and more bodies than he can count, he's panting and covered in blood and ready to drop. Stick's head is doing that tipping thing similar to when Matt is sensing something a fair distance away and Frank focuses on that, and on breathing, and ignores the wave of nausea.  
"There's... There's a room that way." Stick points. "It's quiet."  
"What d'you mean?"  
"Can't get a read on it. Or the corridor. Fades off."  
"So that way?"  
"There's more guys comin' from this way." He points. "So you better hurry up and get Mattie out because even I can't tell how many of them." Frank pauses, wants to say something but can't get his head straight enough to figure out what. "Go." Stick says with an eye roll and a sharp shove and Frank sets off at a jog.

The corridor is cloaked somehow. Draped in... Stuff. Frank doesn't linger too long on it but there's what feels like heavy chalk paint and then there's hangings of whatever it is these freaks wear to make them so quiet. It's instantly like walking into a soundproofed room or going under water. There's no sound. The noises of his gear rattling as he walks that he didn't even notice before are swallowed up before they can carry and his footfalls don't make a dent on the pervasive silence. Something is nagging at the back of his mind about this whole set-up but he can think about that later. The tunnel is long and there's a door. As it turns out there are _several_ doors. All muffled. The first two aren't locked but the third one is. If Matt's behind it he can't exactly shoot it out though so he gets to work on the lock like a good little Boy Scout. He's almost desperate for some kind of sound and something other than the endless drapes in the circle of his torch light when he comes to a final, larger door. This lock is a padlock so he angles the barrel at the wall and blasts at it until it falls away. Somehow satisfied by the ringing in his ears, he yanks the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, bad things. New chapter tomorrow, stay tuned.


	5. Levels

The sound hardly carries but he hears it before his torch finds the huddled figure in the corner. It's Matt and he's  _ whimpering _ and Frank's suddenly dizzy and the faded nausea comes back full force. He runs to him, throws himself on the ground and gets a look at him before he reaches out. His hands are against the sides of his head pressed against his ears and he's breathing too fast. The walls and floor are paved seamlessly with a thick, dull sort of rubber material, soft, giving under Frank’s feet, completely muffling every step and soaking up more sound than even the corridor had.  
"Matt,  _ Matt _ ..." He flinches at the sound. Frank tries to keep his voice low but it's shaking. Matt's not wearing his suit, just an over large shirt and shorts. He looks too small.  
"Matt can I...are you..." Matt makes a choking pained sound and presses his head against the wall. Trembles, hiding against it, hands on his head.

Oh. Frank gets it, all at once, rises and crosses the room as quietly as he can and shuts the door gently. He moves back to Matt and squats a little distance away. Tries not to be too loud but his heart is wrenching and he has to force his breathing to slow. Waits. Matt clears his throat, flinches, waits to get his breath back.  
"F-Frank?" He says, voice a tiny croak of sound.  
"Yeah." Frank says, voice lower than a whisper.  
"Y'too loud." Matt's voice is shaking and weak but he sounds like he's trying to smile. He hasn't moved away from the wall, his hands are still pressed against his ears.  
"I've been told that, yeah." Frank says. Matt doesn't flinch so much this time. "Sorry about the gunshot."  
"You smell like, like blood like a _lot_ of..." He sounds so breathless and disorientated that Frank has to concentrate _hard_ on breathing shallow and even.  
"Frank she was here, F-Frank she… but she was _quiet_ there was no noise there was… she didn’t _smell_ right she…” His voice is going in and out, like he’s about to pass out.  
"How long have you been down here?" Frank says softly.  
"Don't know I don't..." He shakes his head against the wall. "It was so quiet, so _quiet_ I didn't... Where are you I can't s-sense you are you here are you..."  
"I'm real, God, Matt I'm real." Frank's voice cracks and he scrambles nearer. Doesn't know how to do this. Matt's _terrified,_ Frank's never seen him like this. Not even close, Matt doesn’t stop for anything. Everything he knows about how to keep morale up for an injured man is useless, he’s not even sure Matt can take anything above a whisper. What can he do? There has to be something, has to be… panic is taking over now, his vision swims. _No, no, Matt needs you. Hold it together._ Frank grits his teeth and settles within arms reach of Matt but not any closer. Now he can touch the floor for himself, he can appreciate the problem fully. It's so soft that it barely has a surface, cushioning Frank’s hand without any obvious points of support, but not giving through to any discernible solid surface beneath.

"I can hear where you are now." Matt sounds relieved, desperately so.  
"Can I touch you? Would that..."  
"Not yet I can't... Not yet." He takes a breath. "They uh, I followed him down here and... And felt this... There was a  _ space _ and I thought maybe they were hiding something from, from  _ Stick _ ... thought it might be  _ her _ ..." He's breathing too hard now. Voice is faint and high.  
"Shh, Matt, listen to me you're safe."  
"Why is there s-so much blood are you..?"  
"It's not mine." Frank says heavily.  
"It was s-so quiet... I couldn't, I  _ screamed _ I..." He drops his hands, one pressing against his chest, over his heart. "T-tried to break though the w-walls… I didn't... Everything was... It all moved and I couldn't… could only hear me- only my heart, only... There was..." His words choke off into a sob and the hand on his chest clenches into a fist. He reaches back towards Frank with his other hand, face screwed up and still pressed against the wall. Frank takes his hand first, Matt half jerks back as if he's touching something sharp and Frank keeps his fingers gentle. His hands are scraped and scratched and Frank has to steady himself, stroking his broken skin with light touches. Waits until Matt is relaxed against his fingers, moves his hand to his shoulder, tips Matt towards him. Matt's shaking at the sensation of touching him, like an exposed nerve, but he's clinging on regardless, presses his forehead against Frank's shoulder. Matt lifts his hand, feels Frank's face, strokes his head. The torch is on the ground now but enough light splashes from it to show Matt’s ruffled hair. His stubble isn't thick enough to cover the bruising on his face, he's pretty banged up. Blood spots the grey shirt from presumably a nose bleed, though his nose doesn't look too bad. An examination of any injuries is going to have to wait.

"S'blood in your hair." He mumbles.  
"An' everywhere else." Frank agrees. He's afraid his harsh clothing is hurting Matt, imagining everything feels like sandpaper or worse by the way that Matt's body shakes against him.  
"Is this ok?"  
"Fuck, Frank you're here you’re  _ warm, _ I don't care I don't  _ care _ ..." He runs out of breath and tightens his hands with a desperate little sound that gets Frank holding him finally, hands on his shoulders, gentle, barely touching him.  
"We're gonna stay slow ok." Frank says and Matt nods against him. "We need to get out of here but it's gonna be  _ loud _ alright.”  
“Just don't go please don't go-” His voice breaks.  
“M’right with you.” Frank promises gently.

*

Progress is slow. Frank doesn't want to touch Matt too firmly but he has to support him at times because the slightest sound jerks his limbs, saps the feeling from them. His heart is beating so hard Frank can feel it against his side. He hopes to God Matt doesn't have any broken ribs because in this state there would be no way to tell just by the way he's moving. The moment they step over the threshold and into the regular, unmuffled corridor, Matt lets out a strangled noise of alarm, loses balance and tightens his hands on Frank’s body. Frank stops them, lets Matt adjust.  
“We’re still pretty far underground, can you hear the street?” Matt’s shoulders twitch uncomfortably, Frank guesses with the reverberation of his words, but he shakes his head. Frank pauses. Matt is wildly overstimulated simply by Frank’s presence and the ability to hear the walls again, where can he take him that won't just _hurt?_ Still, they can't stay here.

Matt’s turning his head wildly, breathing too hard. After a few minutes of presumably listening, he seems to adjust somewhat.  
"J-Jessica?” Matt’s tilting his head, face still bunched up with pain but he's at least trying to make sense of what he can hear. Turns his head sharply. “Stick’s here?”  
“S’how I found you.” Frank tells him, gets them moving again.  
“Gotta get t’my apartment.” Matt mumbles.  
“Sure that’s a good idea?” Frank says.  
“I know it I know the… Sounds I know it…” He loses his grasp on words again for a few panting seconds, then; “T-there's blood.”  
“Yeah.” Frank says. They're retracing their steps back through the battleground they had to get through on they way in. Matt jerks and pulls in Frank’s arms before Frank can hear them himself, a shout and a lot of crashing. They round the corner in time to see Jessica and Luke standing back to back surrounded by unconscious men.  
“Matt!” Jessica says, much too loudly, grabs a torch from the ground and makes towards him. Frank holds out a hand but Matt groans weakly, hands coming up to his head and the feeling leaves his legs. Frank manages to catch him and lower his body to the ground before he falls. He's looking greenish, face shining with sweat, head rolling slightly on his neck as if from a lack of balance. Frank crouches beside him, holds his shoulder, hopes that's a good thing to be doing.  
“What's wrong with him?” Jessica says, blessedly in an undertone.  
“Think he's in shock.” Frank says softly. Gives them a brief explanation. Luke’s looking grim by the time he's finished and Jessica just deeply angry.  
“You wear earplugs right?” Luke says. Reasonable as always.  
“If you say no I’m going to punch you in the face _and_ tell Claire.” Jessica says, quieter than before. Frank gets a sudden violent urge to kick himself.  
“Matt, I’m going give you some earplugs, that ok?” He waits. Matt nods a bit. His eyes are twitching, breath ragged. Frank has to hold him still as he puts them in but when he’s done, Matt’s body relaxes just a little. “You good?” He says, Matt nods.  
“Thanks.” Matt just about manages a watery smile.  
“Fuck, you two are just _obnoxiously_ cute.” Jessica says, barely audible. Matt coughs out a laugh and then appears to regret that immediately to the point of half collapsing against the wall behind him. His chin rests on his chest. Frank waits for Matt’s drooping body to revive a little.  
“Still with us?” Frank says. Matt’s breath shudders but he manages a slight nod. His eyes are pressed shut out of some vain instinct. “Who’s the quietest?” Frank asks carefully. Matt tilts his head, looking almost panicked that he doesn’t understand at first, but then he figures it out.  
“Luke.” He mumbles. Luke nods, steps forward without having to be told. Lifts him and lets him lean, supports his body.  
“Do we need to help Stick?” Jessica says to Frank, who occupies himself with making sure all of his weapons are in their proper places.  
“He’s ok.” Matt grunts out. “Coming to join us.”  
“Thanks.” Jessica says a little helplessly and gives Frank a look, flicking her head at the stone above them and back again. As per usual, understanding shoots between them. _He’s not going to do well up there._ Frank grimaces and looks away because it’s been lurking at the back of his mind like a sense of impending doom since he found Matt cowering in that room and it’s irrelevant because they have no choice. He shakes his head. Jessica reaches out and grips his arm. He tries to give her a smile but it doesn’t quite happen.

Frank only notices Stick come up behind them because he was watching out. He nods to him, opens his mouth to explain what’s happening.  
"Come on Mattie stand up." Stick says briskly at regular speaking volume. Matt's head twitches from side to side and he lets out a noise, choked, he tries but Luke has to adjust his arms to take more of his weight. "On your feet."  
"Stick." Frank says softly.  
"Walk." Stick's too loud.  
"Quiet." Frank says, low but dangerous enough for Jess to give him a look this time. Stick ignores him, Frank's body burns with rage. He heaves in a breath, forces himself to calm, for Matt's sake. Stick takes a step towards Luke and Matt, who is grunting with the effort of trying to control himself.  
"S-Stick I c-can't..." His voice is strained and breathless.  
"Look your boyfriend doesn't know how his works so I'll-" Stick reaches a hand towards Matt and Jessica is suddenly there before Frank can figure out how to react without making too much noise. She catches Stick's hand.  
"Don't." She says, voice very quiet but with an edge. Frank wants to go to Matt but he's shifting, groaning quietly, looks like he's going to heave.  
"You know him." Luke says evenly. "You know he's not playing this up."  
"I know him better than you." Stick says, still too loud. Frank reaches for a knife.  
"Honesty I'm not sure why I had so many people down here to guard it." A ringing female voice comes from the gloom.

Frank starts, sees Jessica and Luke freeze. Stick doesn't move. Matt shudders and tries to push Luke away. A woman steps into a mildly lit area of tunnel in their path, leading to the stairs. It's her. Something is wrong with her eyes, her mouth, but otherwise there is no evidence that she was ever dead. Frank can just see a few men behind her.  
"You are doing a very good job of getting ready to kill each other."  
"Bring it on, girly." Stick sounds tired. "We got through a whole bunch of your people to get down here."  
"Yes well I wasn't  _ counting _ on you bringing friends."  
"That much is obvious." Her face is twitching.  
"So good to see you." She says, poisonously, terribly, eyes right on Stick.  _ He crossed a line for you he broke it for you and you do this you do this.. _ . Frank's hand is clenching and unclenching on the handle of his combat knife.  
"Why did you hurt Mattie." Stick says, suddenly strangely calm.  
"Oh he kept trying to hurt my associates." She says dismissively. "He gave as good as he got I can tell you that much."  
"He means this." Frank growls, gesturing to Matt. "You left him in there." She zeros in on him, eyes narrowed. There's something deeply wrong, her eyes are dead, cold, shark-like.  
"Are you  _ Frank? _ " She asks, her voice is viciously smooth. Matt makes a pained sound and tries to pull away from Luke.  
"Who's asking."  
"His previous squeeze." She says with a sickly smile. "He spoke of you rather a lot in there. I'm honestly shocked, I was expecting someone more... Well, soft." She spits the last word.  
"That what you are?" Frank says, keeping his voice at a whisper. He bares his teeth at her a little. "Soft?" She shrugs, eyes landing on Matt who is panting, angrily, helplessly.  
"I honestly didn't realise it would have such... Effects." A flash of something more human passes over her face. Confusion almost. Close to pain. Somehow that just pulls out something heavier, angrier from somewhere inside Frank.   
"Yeah well we all make mistakes." He has his rifle levelled at her but doesn't remember raising it. She tuts a few times.  
"Oh  _ Frank _ I think you know better."  
"Try me." She claps her hands. Once. Loud and sharp. Matt yells faintly. The feeling goes out of his legs and he would have dropped if not for Luke.  
"Let me go m'gonna t-throw up-" Matt gasps and Luke lowers him to the ground.  
"It's ok, just breathe, we're getting you out of here." Luke tells him gently, crouched next to him.  
"Lower the gun, Frank." Elektra claps again. Matt moans and drags himself to the wall, leans there on all fours, shaking violently. Frank forces himself to lower it. Can't do that to Matt.  
"Good boy." Elektra says. She leans her head and scoops her hair around to one shoulder, smiling at Frank as she does. "Look at all of you, rallying around my poor Matthew." Frank catches Jessica in the corner of his eye, shaking with anger.  
"Why would you do this." She spits out each word in a furious hiss.  
"How could you?" She takes a couple of angry steps towards Elektra. "He's not  _ yours _ ."  
"And you feel he belongs to you?" She doesn't look at Jessica, eyes still focused on Frank.  
"Get out of our way." Jessica's voice has gone flat now, somehow more dangerous. Elektra laughs.  
"Oh I wasn't planning on staying. I only wanted to drop in, take a look all my unexpected guests. I had hoped Stick would be staying, but I know my boys are a little easier to dispose of if they can be seen. That will have to wait. As I say, I was not expecting  _ friends _ ."  
"Until next time, Ellie." Says Stick and a sudden spark of anger contorts her features.  
"See you soon." But there's something more childish and less threatening about her words as she stalks away.

She leaves them some men who put up a significant fight, or maybe it's just because they're all trying their hardest to keep quiet. They flee rather than finish the fight, presumably left behind to give Elektra a comfortable stretch of time in which to leave. They give Matt a few minutes, until the sounds of fighting have stopped making him twitch and shudder. Luke helps Matt to his feet. He's managed not to throw up at least, but there's a defeated sort of slump to him now.  
"I'she g-gone?"  
"She's gone." Frank says, touches his shoulder lightly. Stick's thankfully quiet now. Doesn't try to push Matt again which is a relief because Matt looks so utterly miserable that all three of them may well have attacked him if he had. Jessica looks about ready to punch something. Frank has no doubt that nothing much would survive it if she did.  
"This ok?" Luke asks, carefully arranging his hold on Matt. He nods a few times.  
"Y-yeah s'fine thank you, thanks."  
"Good to move?" He nods again.

The journey above ground takes longer than he journey down just on account of the stairs. Luke has no trouble carrying Matt, he hardly slows them down at all. At least until he gets within hearing range of the street. It slowly tenses his body, the higher they go. Frank's stomach turns helplessly, watching the world above gradually overwhelm Matt's already shaky grip on himself. He was faint to begin with, so it's no surprise when, close to the surface when even those of them with regular human hearing can begin to hear the traffic and the car horns, he breathes too fast, sobs, shudders and goes limp. It's probably the kindest thing his body could have done. Jess takes over then, throwing him over her shoulder to give Luke a break. He falls back to walk in step with Frank.

"You doing ok?" Luke says, unexpectedly. Frank turns to him, doesn't know what to say. He's covered in blood, exhausted, probably looks more dead than alive. He's hardly thought about himself since finding Matt beyond how much noise his body has been making. Suddenly each step feels like a battle against gravity. It hardly matters though, because it's nothing compared to the searing worry clawing at his lungs. He nods eventually.  
"Yeah s'just, you know what he's like."  
"Yeah. He's gonna be ok." Luke says with complete and total certainty. Frank tries a smile.

*

Stick takes his leave when no one is looking which is probably sensible of him. Matt is still thankfully dead to the world by the time they bundle him into his apartment through his roof access. Frank gets him into some silk pants and into his bed as efficiently as possible, checks the ear plugs (probably less than useless but he can't think that taking them out will help) and joins the other two in Matt's living room.  
"Go home." Frank tells them. "It's late. I'll call you if there's trouble."  
"You're ready to drop, Frank." Jess says, more gently than she usually takes it upon herself to point out Frank's own exhaustion.  
"S'fine I'm gonna call in some backup." Elektra was right about one thing, Frank is not soft, he's rough and harsh in every way that Matt doesn't need right now.

Frank climbs out to the roof before making the call, as if that distance makes much difference to Matt at the best of times.  
"Nelson." He says as soon as he hears the line pick up. There's a breath and a pause.  
_ "Frank?" _ Foggy sounds as tired as Frank feels, but his voice isn't distorted by sleep. Frank hasn't woken him.  
"We got him he's... Safe."  
_ "You do?" _ Foggy lets out a sudden splutter of relieved laughter.  _ “Why d'you say it like that?" _ Foggy moans.  __ "Do I need to call Claire?"  
"Maybe." Frank says. He explains, tries to blunt the scope of it by making it as brief as possible but there's not much to be done in the way of making 'four days of sensory deprivation' sound less damning. Foggy curses unintelligibly when Frank's finished, voice choked.  
__ "How is he now?"  
"Unconscious. Passed out before we got up to street level."  
__ "Should I be there? If he's..."  
"He slept in the same room as you for... How long is law school?" Frank blinks tiredly. "You're familiar. You're his best friend, Foggy."  _ And you're softer than me. _ Frank wants to say. Soft like Matt's sheets, careful in a way that Frank can't reach no matter how hard he tries to. But it wouldn't sound right, so he just lets his plea and Foggy's nickname hang in the air until Foggy's sigh rustles the speaker.  
__ "I'm coming. Now."

*

"You need to take a shower, man." It takes Foggy wincing as he looks at him to remind Frank that he's covered from head to toe in blood.  
"Right. Yeah, don't wanna... Wake him." Frank says. Foggy glances in the direction of Matt's bedroom, sighs heavily.  
"Don't think he's waking up any time soon."

Frank showers and changes into some spare clothes he left last time he was here. It was barely a week ago, feels more like years. When he comes out of the bathroom Foggy is slumped on the sofa, staring across the room, eyes unfocused and dull.  
"When did you last sleep?" Frank says. Foggy's brow furrows, he shrugs.  
"Looking at you? More recently than that." Frank can't argue with him on that one. Foggy puts his head back and closes his eyes. "Sit down before you fall down." Frank shuffles his feet a bit.  
"Shouldn't stay." He says, hating the words. Foggy's head shoots up.  
"What?" He says, not sharp, just surprised.  
"He's... I'm _loud_."  
"Frank." Foggy says, serious, looking right at him. "Even I can hear the television on in the apartment below us, there's probably four family domestics happening in this block alone and there's _sirens_ outside." He sucks in a breath through his nose. "I don't think one more heartbeat will hurt." Frank looks away, head turns nervously from side to side. Can't shake that look of pain on Matt's face when Frank was the only deafening thing he could hear. "This isn't your fault." Foggy says sharply. "He'll want you to be here when he wakes up. How many times have you slept together now?" He grimaces. "I mean in the same _room_ I don't wanna know about the other stuff." Frank forces himself to breathe as close to normal as possible, shrugs.  
"Few times."  
"Who wakes up first?"  
"Sometimes I do sometimes Matt." His voice caves in on his name.  
"Then sit down. Sleep if you can. Even you can't be that loud when you're unconscious."


	6. Bearings

Frank sleeps like he's dead, wakes up worse, head burning with dehydration, uncomfortably upright. Someone is speaking, someone else is... distressed. Frank heaves himself up. It's light now so he must have had a few hours at least. Feels like less. He has at least three small injuries on his arms that hurt suddenly and his ribs feel just like he's been kicked by a bunch of ninjas. Takes a while to get up from the sofa, wrestling his complaining body towards the bedroom.  
"Hey, Matt, come on you were doing good, back to me, ok?"  
"Foggy I'm sorry I'm  _ sorry _ I can't just f-focus on you it's all..." Matt sounds a lot stronger, but panicked and he sounds strange, like he can't hear his own voice. The apartment smells like soup, Frank realises, and he spots a half empty mug beside the bed as he moves into the doorway, cautious  
"It's ok, it's fine Matt it's understandable."  
"The bankers are- someone's messed up a deal they're  _ shouting _ ." Frank gets a sudden and wild need to go over to the office buildings across the street at  _ silence _ them. Matt is leant over the side of his bed, hands clenched into fists on his blanket. There's a bit more colour in his face. Foggy is calm, hand on Matt's shoulder, like he's only dealing with a drunk friend.  
"You're doing well man, way better than when you first woke up."  
"M'head didn't hurt s'much when I woke up." Matt mumbles almost sulkily.  
"Hey, see you're on me again." Foggy says a little smugly. "You need to drink the soup."  
"If I have anything else I  _ will _ throw up I'm barely keeping..." His voice distorts and fades out. "Dammit Rick stop screaming at the intern..." He whispers, voice shaking. "Not his fault..."  
"Hey Matt come on, listen to me breathe." Matt doesn't appear to hear. Foggy spots Frank and gives him a kind of pressed-lip benevolent smile.  
"Frank's up." Foggy tries. "I made him shower so he's not, y'know sporting a blood facial now." Matt swallows, forces his breath in and out.  
“H-hey Frank.”  
“You doin’ ok?” Frank comes closer, a little hesitantly. Matt shrugs.  
“Investment banking is really boring.” He says with a weak sort of smile.

Matt can't locate him yet, it takes a bit of head-turning before his head is tilted in that way that means his attention is on him.  
"Frank." It's that tone, the one he uses when he hears Frank heart pick up too much, when the waves of adrenalin get too thick, and it's grotesque because Matt shouldn't have to be looking out for him now. The thought only makes his heart hammer harder.  
"Sorry." He chokes out and Matt's already crinkled brow furrows some more.  
"Sorry? No, no..." Matt shifts, shoving himself more upright. Foggy steadies him. "D-don't apologise." He laughs, it's pained but it's there and his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The smile soothes Frank a bit. "C'mere." Frank moves around the bed and perches awkwardly. Matt's reaching fingertips find his face. He laughs again.  
"Th'beard's making a comeback." Frank smiles and catches his hand in his and Matt jerks a little. Frank's breath gets caught, he releases his hand at once and Matt shakes his head.  
"It's not you it's just the bankers." Matt still sounds stretched out and unsteady so it's hard to tell if he's lying or not. Frank's stomach doesn't stop lurching but Matt seems calmer and that's something.  
"You ok?"  
"He's stopped doing that face he does where he looks like he's eaten a whole lemon." Foggy puts in helpfully.  
"I do... What?" Frank says, staring. Foggy just shrugs. Turns to Matt. "How you doing, buddy?"  
"Better." He says, half smiling. "Maybe I could try some more of that soup now?" He almost looks sheepish. Foggy passes it to him. He takes it in both fairly steady hands. Matt smells of sweat. Frank didn't really notice before, on account of not smelling great himself and the smell of real, close, alive Matt just being a relief. A bath should probably be the next thing. If he's up to it.  
"What about lemons?" Frank says rolling his head to squint at Foggy. He smiles with a splash of nervousness.  
"Oh you know, when you're worried but not trying to look worried. You kinda grimace." Foggy imitates. Eyebrows all grumpy and bunched up. He even tilts his head back. Frank tries not to but he's laughing, breathless and uncontrollable, coming out of some strange old place that's been cracked open with tiredness and relief. Matt grabs and grips his shoulder, shaking his head and trying not to burst out laughing with a mouth full of soup.

"Did I thank you?" Matt says, when he's dutifully drained the mug. His voice still doesn't sound right, like he's talking to them with loud music playing in his ears.  
"Don't need to thank us. You'd do the same for... Anyone." Matt groans.  
"So I didn't."  
"Don't need to." Frank repeats stubbornly. Matt huffs out a breath through his nose.  
"Foggy, could you... Would you mind..?"  
"No problem I was gonna text them in a minute anyway." He touches his shoulder and rises, moves out of the room.

"So you and Stick." Matt says.  
"Us all and Stick. Jessica almost punched him when he was tryin' that tough love thing on you." Matt twitches minutely.  
"I don't remember much." He admits. "I remember blood. Are you..." He reaches out again and hesitantly touches Frank's neck as if he's not sure the contact will burn him. Carefully strokes his palm around the back. Frank lets his head rock towards him, closes his eyes. Matt's thumb brushes his skin softly. Frank lets out a small sigh despite himself. It shudders a little, focused on the warm point of contact. Control he hadn't been consciously exercising threatens to let itself down in the face of Matt's support. Everything aches, it's a struggle not to give in, to lean.  
"I'm fine, Red." Frank says, trying to smile. "You're safe."  
"Mm." Matt's face is concerned. "You didn't have to..." He mumbles, then checks himself, shakes his head. "Thank you." His voice comes out hoarse. "How long was I down there?" He says it low, covert. Doesn't want Foggy to overhear.  
"They uh, they keep you in that room all the time?" He takes a small tight breath and nods.  
"Four days, almost." His breath out sounds like a curse that he's too shocked to get his mouth around. His hand tightens, gasps for a few moments, other hand compulsively flitting to his chest, shakes himself.  
"Felt longer. And shorter." Doesn't elaborate, can't, Frank realises, as he waits for Matt's body to relax again. He chuckles suddenly, eyes pressed shut. "Kid upstairs just got his Mom to put on his favourite movie for the third time." He explains.  
"More or less boring than investment banking?" Frank smiles helplessly because Matt's smile, however edged with bitterness, is like light.  
"S'a good one, Foggy narrated it for me once."  
"See if it's still good the fifth time." Frank grins.  
"Hopefully he'll be napping by then." Matt laughs.  
"Karen is coming later, if you're up to it." Foggy walks in and Matt jumps. Frank frowns, so used to Matt knowing so clearly where everyone is. Matt grips the sheets with both hands again as if to anchor himself.  
"Sorry." Foggy grimaces. "I should wear a bell." He seats himself back down opposite Matt.  
"Yeah y'practically a ninja." Frank says seriously.  
"You're one to talk." Foggy grumbles.  
"S'fine, Karen, yeah sounds good."  
"Your head still hurts right? And don't lie, I'll know."  
"Objection, leading the witness." Matt says vaguely.  
"You said your head hurt." Frank says. "Mean uh, overruled?" Foggy, to his credit, only does a subtle double-take.  
Matt does something close enough to a pout to cause a violent rush of some kind of emotion in Frank's chest region.  
"M' _ fine _ , Foggy." He says. Foggy sighs and turns to Frank.  
"Permission to treat the witness as hostile?" Frank mostly chokes back what would have been a messy burst of startled laughter at that and manages to splutter out;  
"Granted." Matt's face can't seem to settle between amused and betrayed.  
"Tell me if your head hurts worse, Murdock." Foggy says with a worry-softened attempt to sound stern.  
"Not  _ worse _ ." Matt mumbles, defeated.  
"Humph." Foggy doesn't appear convinced.  
"When is Karen coming?"  
"Couple of hours."  
"Right."

Frank runs a bath and Matt insists on bathing unaided. Frank and Foggy play out a strangely non-awkward sequel to their earlier encounter with the coffee machine at base. Somehow, there's a weird peace between them now. Like something unspoken has been resolved. Foggy hands Frank his coffee seconds before Matt staggers out of the bathroom, trying his best to hide the fatigue and clearly sporadic awareness of the world around him.  
"Hey." Foggy offers his arm as safe passage to the bed and Matt accepts, relieved but back to involuntary twitching when either one of them makes any sound sharper than lowered words. Frank feels awfully loud again.  
"Matt, should I be here..." He starts to say but Matt looks stricken for a moment before he catches himself and neutralises his face.  
"No- Frank- no- why?"  
"If I'm makin' too much noise you gotta..."  
"No! No no, Frank I'm  _focusing_  on you." Matt laughs with a humourless edge of hysteria, reaching for him. Their hands meet and Matt grips on, sudden desperate pressure. "P-please." He doesn't say anything else, only allows his eyes to stay pleading for as long as it takes shame to take over. Frank lets himself be pulled closer, sits beside Matt on the bed, tries to keep his touch soft as Matt tips himself towards him and rests against his chest. His vision jumps a little as he makes contact with the bruises that must be rapidly darkening under his shirt, but he hides it easily, Matt’s twitching enough for both of them. Frank runs his hands against his back, makes little automatic hushing sounds until Matt's body relaxes. Matt just clings on like Frank is a life raft that can keep his head above the tide of sound, somehow.  
"Told you." Foggy says softly.

*

Through some kind of sharply honed ability to persuade, Foggy manages to coax Matt into a comfortable sitting position against the headboard and two pillows. Considering Matt is probably a worse patient than even Frank, this serves to further validate his decision to call Foggy immediately. Frank sits on the carpet and leans back against the bed, just because it's easier to keep his ribs supported that way and any attempt to move beyond the bedroom pulls a faint, lost-sounding "Frank?" from Matt. Matt hates it, Frank can see it in his face every time he betrays his weakness like that. Foggy can see it too, tries his best to keep things light whenever it happens. The bath has taken it out of him and he keeps slipping away, focus sporadic. Frank and Foggy keep a low conversation going, like a thread Matt can pick up when he's able, but loses just as often. Foggy leads, talks about work, stories about college. Foggy is easy to speak to, now he's not such a jumpy squirrel around him, and Frank can hold a conversation, when the situation calls for it. And it's nice, weirdly, despite everything.

When there's a knock on the door, Foggy goes to answer it without a word. There's a quiet exchange of greetings before a few too many beats of silence. Presumably miming. Frank wonders if that's improvisation or if they've developed this since Karen found out about Daredevil. Her body language is cautious when she comes into view. Frank pushes himself away from the bed, stands automatically. She actually smiles in his direction before turning her attention to Matt. He'd been drifting before she'd arrived, but he's trying his best to focus his senses at her now.  
"Hey." He says. "Thanks f'the..." He shakes his head as if there's a dozen flies circling it and smiles tightly in irritation. "Y'know. The help. Thanks." She smiles.  
"How many times have you saved me, now?" She says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reaches for her, touches her hand.  
"Think you have a few up on me by now."  
"Could be."  
“Coffee?” Frank blurts. She turns to look at him.  
“Yeah, please, thanks.”

The conversation is hushed so Foggy and Frank don't overhear anything, but when they come back into the room, Matt’s at ease, smiling at something Karen said. Frank hands her the mug. She turns to thank him, but her face crinkles and she frowns at him. Sighs.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“Huh?” He’s reached his hand to his ribs unconsciously. Matt tilts his head sharply.  
“What is it?”  
“M’fine-” Frank tries, backing away, but Karen pursues. She reaches out, touches, he can't help but recoil a little, grunts.  
“What is it?” Matt says, alarmed.  
“S’alright, ribs m’fine.”  
“I'll be the judge of that.” Karen lifts his shirt. Her hand are cool, pleasantly so. He turns his head away to hide his grimace as her fingers flutter across his abdomen and up across his chest, feeling the bone under the bruised skin. Foggy sucks in a hissing breath.  
“Dammit.”  
“It's not s’bad as it looks.” He mutters, looking pointedly between Karen, Foggy and Matt.  
“Come with me, we’re calling Claire.” Foggy, scowling, takes Frank’s arm and tugs him into the main room. “You're both as bad as eachother.” He grumbles, dialing.  
“Claire should come anyway.” Frank says quietly, hopes Matt is too focused on Karen or the kid’s cartoon to hear. “He’s…”  
“Yeah, yeah I know.” Foggy snaps in an undertone, eyes flicking to the bedroom and back.  
“You can't go around with broken ribs man.” Foggy says as it rings.

“Yeah it’s Foggy, hi Claire.” The speaker isn’t loud enough for Frank to catch what she says, but after a pause, Foggy laughs. “Yeah yeah, I’ll make it up to you next time we go for drinks.” Another silence, and Foggy pouts. “I like Josies.” He mutters, trying not to laugh. “Yeah what I text you about, also Frank has probably broken about four ribs and has been mooching about as if that isn’t something you should, you know, get looked at.” Claire’s sigh is loud enough for Frank to just about catch it, or maybe that’s his imagination. “Great.” Foggy says after a moment. “See you soon.” He hangs up. “Have I thanked you yet?” He says, suddenly serious, eyes locked onto Frank’s. Frank’s face gets hot and he has to look away, down.  
“Y’don’t need to…”  
“Hey.” Foggy says sharply. “It can’t have been easy.” He reaches out and grips Frank’s arm because Foggy is a naturally tactile person and years of being Matt’s best friend have only made him more so. “You looked like…” He stops, shakes his head. “You saved my best friend.” Frank forces himself to look up, meet Foggy’s eyes again. His stomach twists and he manages a tight half smile.  
“Didn’t he save me?” Frank says, voice hoarse. “More than once.” Can’t hold it then, head turns from side to side, doesn’t know where to look. “S’the least I could do the  _ least…” _ runs out of breath, has more to say, struggles to find the words, but then Foggy steps forward and he’s hugging. Frank pulls in a startled breath. Foggy puts the weight of the hug on the shoulders, aware of the rib situation now, and just holds on, steady, firm.  
“S’time to stop beating yourself up about that.” Foggy says, quietly. “God knows you people get into enough trouble without having to actively self-flagellate.” He breaks away, holds him at arm’s length for a moment, smiles. “Though with the shit you get yourself into, debatably you've got that covered.” He drops his eyes again. “Look after yourself.”

*

Having Karen there keeps Matt above the surface for a little while, but by the time she has to leave to get back to work, Matt’s started to sink again. Sinking slowly turns to struggling. When Claire arrives it’s more like drowning. Matt is sweating, arms over his head. Whimpering every so often. Sirens are the worst thing, getting him tense and bunched up until they pass, and they’re all too regular. Frank can’t keep still, despite Foggy’s obvious disapproval at his restlessness. His mind just keeps going back to Lisa, four years old and tiny, crying and inconsolable with an ear infection. Carrying her to the car in the middle of the night, Maria business like and practical and telling him to stay calm. And he wouldn’t usually dwell, wouldn’t usually allow it, such a vivid piece of the past, but he can’t get rid of it. It burns into his mind again and again without warning, clear down to the damp little face against his neck. But Claire, help, is here now, and Matt… by all accounts has had worse, as Foggy repeats like a mantra, more to himself than to Frank.

“He was like this when he woke up.” Foggy tells Claire. Frank pulls his mind to the present. “Got him to come back but… he’s tired.” It’s mid afternoon. Between them, Foggy and Frank managed to convince him to get down some more soup and some crackers, but his ability to focus on them became increasingly intermittent as he lost the energy to filter them out from everything else. She turns to Frank.  
“When you got to him what was he like?” Frank takes a steadying breath, talks it through, tries not to allow his voice to shake. Tries to keep the facts clinical. Claire needs this information. It’s difficult to relive, Matt’s raw terror, garbled, shocked-out speech. When he gets to Matt passing out before they got him above ground, his voice cracks a little and Foggy grips his arm again, for Frank’s benefit or his own, Frank doesn’t know. If Claire is concerned by this information, it doesn’t show. She nods.  
“So he was overwhelmed, like this, the first time he could hear the city?” Frank nods, can’t speak. “Right.” Claire lets out a long breath. “The problem is psychological. Whatever walls or systems or however Matt usually deals with all this are down or gone or not functioning right now. He needs to get them back.” Frank nods. “I can offer him a mild sedative.” She pauses, grimaces. “But it could do one of a few things.”  
“Shoot.” Foggy says stiffly. She sighs and shakes her head.  
“First possibility, it dampens out his mind, gives him a break, his subconscious can get used to the noise.”  
“Great, good.” Foggy says quickly. “That sounds…”  
“What else could happen?” Frank says.  
“Semi conscious with too much input?” Claire swallows and shakes her head. “He’s trapped in a semi conscious nightmare of sensory overload. Third guess?” She shrugs. “He sleeps and wakes up and is no closer to getting a handle on this thing.” Frank glances at Matt, sobbing, trying to muffle the noise with his arms. Tries not to wince.  
“Don’t think the nightmare option could be much worse than this.” Foggy says helplessly, lips tight with tension. Frank shakes his head.  
“He’s right.”

Claire approaches quietly, sits on the edge of the bed. Reaches out. Matt shifts under her touch, she takes his hand.  
“Hey, Matt, if you can hear me, it’s Claire.” He makes a sort of pained sound but doesn’t respond. She sits a while, holds onto his hand. He moves his fingers in hers, feels her palm, knuckles, systematically reading her.  
“Claire.” He mumbles, barely understandable.  
“Hi.” She says, softer than Frank’s ever heard her. “You’re tense.” She says. “I want to give you a sedative. That ok?” His breath shudders and Frank’s not sure he’s heard her, but then he nods.  
“Mm. Ok. If you think… ok.” A car horn in the street and he’s gone again, panting, curled on the bed. Foggy and Frank exchange a glance because if he’s accepting without fuss it’s  _ bad _ , but they knew that already. Claire works fast. Foggy holds Matt still when the needle goes in. He jerks but he’s still weak and exhausted and Foggy looks like he’s the one who’s been stuck with it, by how pale and wide-eyed he goes. Almost at once though, the effects become apparent, Matt’s body unfurling, breath becoming less ragged, until he’s more or less relaxed against the duvet. Claire nods, satisfied, then rounds on Frank.  
“Right. Your turn.”

*

“Hey uh, was Claire here?” Matt’s standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the lounge. Frank’s head shoots up to stare at him and something smooth and warm works it’s way from his chest and outwards. Matt’s smiling, trying vaguely to sort out the bedhead he’s accumulated. He’s the most beautiful thing Frank’s seen for a very long time. He stands quickly, crosses to put his hands on Matt’s shoulders. Carefully reads his face from close quarters.  
“Feeling better?” Foggy says from somewhere behind Frank.  
“Yeah, thanks man, for everything.” Matt says.  
“Don’t mention it.” Foggy sounds a bit weak with relief. Frank knows the feeling.  
“Claire was here, yeah.” Frank says gently. “Gave you something. Seems like it helped?”  
“Woke up and it… yeah I can sort through things now.” He shifts sheepishly. “Did listen to the Swedish couple across the street for half an hour or so after I woke up, just to filter stuff but, it’s good now.” He leans forwards to give Frank a quick peck on the cheek. Frank doesn’t need Matt’s super senses to know he’s not quite right yet, but he’s not writhing in pain and that’s enough for now. Frank wraps his arms around him, hesitantly at first but Matt practically falls into his arms, clings to his back with a comfortable sigh of relief. Frank holds him tight against his chest, soft shirt on soft shirt, bandaged ribs be damned.

*

“And then he  _ cried? _ ”  
“Yeah.” Foggy says, leant towards Jessica across the diner booth table on his elbows. She leans back against the cushioned seat and tilts her head.  
“ _ Frank _ cried.” She frowns at him, unconvinced.  
“Yes!” He says insistently.  
“ _ Our _ Frank?”  
“No Jess I mean the  _ other _ Frank Castle that our mutual ninja friend recently shacked up with.” She immediately makes a face at his words.  
“Jesus,  _ two  _ of them, can you even imagine?”  
“I'd rather not, thanks. One is quite enough.”  
“You're saying there were actual tears?” She’s still frowning across at him and Foggy rolls his eyes.  
“Real, actual, manly tears is what I'm saying. Well at least one. And he  _ sniffed _ .” Foggy says, slapping a hand on the table for emphasis, just so she knows he's serious about this. Jess puffs out her cheeks and blows out a long breath.  
“What have we done to the poor man.” She says, shaking her head in disbelief and looking out of the window. She takes a swig of coffee.  
“He’s practically house trained.” Foggy smirks.  
“Should we be worried?” Jess squints at him. “I mean… This is good, right?”  
“I don't know you tell me, I have zero first hand experience with emotional constipation.”  
“You  _ are  _ basically a care-bear.”  
“Whereas you…” he says slowly.  
“I have been told I am somewhat of a grump.” Jess narrows her eyes at him. “As much as I defend my right to be as emotionally distant as you people will let me, this is probably a good thing.”  
“Good.” Foggy thinks of Frank’s face as he looked at Matt, too exhausted and worried to be guarded, emoting like a normal human for once. He tries to marry that with the mask-like glare he had on in all those hours in the courtroom.  
“But we should keep an eye out.” She adds. Foggy nods wisely.  
“We have chosen to play the friend game on hard mode. We’re not doing too badly so far.” He holds up his latte and motions. She rolls her eyes and accepts his mug-clink.  
“Dork.” She says, smiling despite herself and trying to hide it with her coffee.  
“I defend my right to be dorkish.”


	7. Pasta

Frank hasn't turned any suspicious heads since he shaved off his beard and let his hair grow out. Starting to dress like some kind of stereotype probably helped, and he can't deny he smiles more these days. He threw on a hoodie from the drawer of Matt’s wardrobe that has become ‘his’, oversized and he suspects it’s third hand, Foggy to Matt to him, hood up to disguise the fading bruises. Leaving even for a few groceries is uncomfortable. Frank is very aware that Elektra knows where Matt lives and Matt is trying but it's painfully obvious he's in no shape to defend himself yet. But it's irrational; it's light outside. Ninjas don't do daylight any more than Daredevil and Frank himself. He catches sight of his hand when the sleeve pulls back from where it was comfortably hiding his grazed knuckles. Direct sunlight just reveals how little time he's spent in it recently. Blue veins showing vividly through skin that looks almost pearly white. It looks strange to him, Frank’s most familiar mental image of his own hands are sun-browned and sand-burned. Charms the cashier, gets her laughing, pays cash, wishes her a good day before she can. Walks home, wonders if Matt can hear him coming.

When Frank unlocks the door (still feels strange, in through the front door rather than the roof) he has a sudden, mad impulse to announce ‘honey, I’m home!’ and thankfully catches himself before it comes out. Shrugs his hood down.  
“Frank?” And it's still a question and that hurts because if Matt doesn't know for sure it's him, he's not right.  
“It’s me.” He confirms, shouldering the door shut. Matt moves to greet him, hands having to grope to find the kitchen unit and then the wall on the way to him. Frank’s chest seizes up and stings and he quickly crosses the space, puts down the grocery bags to gently scoop Matt into his arms. Matt twitches a little, surprised, but settles. His hands cling on and Frank doesn’t fail to notice the initial slight oversensitive tremor in his fingers. Frank can catch his breath, though, when Matt’s body is safely folded in his arms.  
“It’s better.” Matt mutters. “Just the uh, the detail it’s…” He stops, maybe because he knows Frank’s not really buying it. “What did you get?”  
“Milk, eggs, couple of other things.” Frank releases him from the embrace and Matt takes his arm to follow him into the kitchen.

Frank watches Matt try to identify each item as he puts them away. He doesn’t ask though, which is good because Frank’s hardly worked up enough courage to think about that yet and he doesn’t want to have to explain right now. Wants it to be sort of a surprise. Matt’s quiet, but that’s nothing new since he got out of that room. It’s a comfortable silence though. Matt’s just relearning how to listen, to decode the flood of senses. It’s the first time they’ve been alone for the few days it’s been. Jess and Claire are due to drop in later, but everyone seems to be running on some unspoken agreement to hold back on the visits, give Matt space to recuperate. The closest any of them have come to mentioning Elektra was Jess, in an undertone, ordering Frank to let her know immediately if there are any developments of any kind, up to and including calling in everyone they know with the ability to throw a punch if either of them so much as sniff a ninja anywhere near Matt’s apartment.

Frank is nowhere close to Foggy levels of skill when it comes to narrating television for Matt, but it’s Back to the Future they settle in front of and Matt is familiar enough not to need it. It’s one he watched before the accident, so he even has vague memories about what it looks like. He asks things occasionally, and Frank puts in a little comment to highlight a visual joke sometimes. Matt leans his head on Frank’s shoulder midway through, curled in his usual spot in his socks. Frank can’t help but notice his shifting against him. Doesn’t know if it’s unconscious or not. His torso flexes, pressing against Frank. Hands start to wander. Frank doesn’t reciprocate, can’t, Matt’s too jumpy and vulnerable right now. Puts the idea out of his mind and just let’s Matt’s not so subtle physical hints go unanswered. Every touch seems to startle Matt at the moment, how can he? When the movie is over, Matt shifts closer, practically on Frank’s lap and goes for a kiss. Frank only answers lightly, carefully disentangles himself and stands.  
“Gonna cook something.” He says, gruff, but Matt stands, follows him. Frank backs up when he reaches out.  
“It can wait.” Matt says, husky. Frank lets Matt steer him back towards the wall between the large windows.  
“You wanna do this now?” Frank grunts, Matt’s touching him, nodding. He kisses him and again, Frank can’t bring himself to respond in the way they’ve both grown accustomed. Matt makes a low, frustrated sound.  
“Come _on._ ” He mutters, a desperate edge to his voice now. “What are you so worried about?”  
“Don’t overdo it.” Frank says, trying to be soft but coming up against Matt’s increasing frustration like a wall.  
“I know what I’m doing.” Matt says, almost growls. “ _Please_ …”  
Frank wheezes out an exasperated laugh.  
“What is this?”  
"Touch me- _touch me_ -" Matt chokes, pushing Frank against the wall with his juddering body, hands shaking as he runs them all over Frank.  
"Matt..." Frank takes his forearms, holds him back, hands loose. "Not now, ok? Not when you're..."  
"I'm not _glass_ Frank I _want this_ I'm not going to break..." His voice is a breathy moan.  
"M'not going to do that to you, not now Matt."  
"Fuck me just- please- just-" he's trying to drag Frank's hands down, back. "Want you _inside_ want you _there_ ."  
"We're not doing this now." Matt shoves him backwards, not too hard. Just a little frustrated push. Grabs his head, pulls him into a kiss. But his hands twitch and flinch as they drag on Frank's stubble. Frank grabs his wrists.  
"Matt. It's too much. Don't hurt yourself." Matt snarls frustratedly.  
"I'm _not_ broken I'm _not_ ..." He's almost sobbing. Frank catches him, arms around his body in a very soft, cushioning bear-hug. Matt shifts as his skin makes contact with Frank’s clothing, body betraying him, confirming Frank's suspicions.  
"You're not broken." Frank says, voice calm, firm, against his head. "But it takes time. You can't force it, it won't help you." Matt shakes him off, paces away.  
"Don't tell me what I can't do." He says, voice low, angry.  
"Matt."  
"Come _on_ ." He tries to push himself up against him, Frank goes slack, doesn't touch.  
"I've never taken anything from you." Frank grunts. "M'not gonna start now." Matt is hard against him, Frank can feel it easily through his sweatpants.  
"I _want_ you to." Matt says, harsh, frantic.  
"Your body doesn't want this." Frank says. "You’re fucking _flinching_ Matt." Matt does sob then, body sags, shaking.  
"Ok... Ok..." Matt's forehead falls against his chest. "Just hold me. Please." His voice is quieter, but it still sounds like he's speaking to him through a crowded room

Frank loops his arms around his waist, Matt's body still pressed against his but loose now.  
"It's going to get better." Frank says softly. "You know that." Matt nods, draws in a deep breath from where his head is folded against Frank's shoulder.  
"Yeah I know, I know I just... I'm not used to this I can usually just... I can just deal with... everything."  
"I know. I know. Just take it slow." Frank touches his hair lightly. Matt draws back and kisses him, slow and gentle this time. He's breathing heavily. Frank cups his face.  
"M'fine." Matt's voice isn't pained but it's strangely rough. Frank kisses him softly, Matt presses his lips against his, hard, and then Matt is pushing at his shoulders. Down.  
"Matt?" Frank strokes his face, with his thumb.  
"You're soft enough, Frank, your _mouth_..." Matt says. Frank could refuse, but Matt's flushed and panting and his mouth is hanging open a little and it’s... If it’s too much he can stop it. So long as Matt is doing ok…

“Please…” Matt breathes, voice a soft whine, a good sound. He lets Matt push him down to his knees, takes his hips between his palms when he gets there and gently nuzzles his hip bone. Matt fumbles with his pants and desperately grabs at his hair. Pushes past Frank's lips with an unsteady sound of relief. Frank takes one hand from Matt’s hip and reaches up, runs a hand over his clothed skin. He's warm, doesn't shudder when Frank touches him through his soft shirt. Frank mouths him slowly, carefully, eyes closed and listening to make sure Matt's not too stimulated. Matt's making soft, good, noises and shifting his hips into Frank's mouth. Frank pulls back and slows when Matt makes any sound that could be interpreted as uncomfortable. Reels him back in.

After a while, that tactic seems to frustrate Matt. He balls up his hands in Frank's hair, Frank grunting in surprise at the sudden pull. His hair has never really been long enough for anyone to get any sort of grip on it before. He's not prepared for the sharp sting. Matt pushes himself deeper and Frank's chest flickers with a strange burn of excitement. _Take what you need take it-_ His eyes water, he groans as Matt's clenched hands pull and push his head as he thrusts, yanking hands like an iron vice around his head. Frank reaches for his wrists, grips his forearms as Matt loses himself, moaning, gasping, good sounds, good, intense, but the first positive involuntary sounds he's heard Matt make since before the tunnels. He rocks his hips, hard, groans as Frank does, pushing him back against the wall. Matt's frantic and shaking for the last few heavy thrusts, eyes pressed shut, head bowed forward. Frank hears himself moan at the sound of Matt’s breathy, happy gasps. He swallows, splutters, releases Matt to rock back on his heels and steady himself on the wall.

He's gasping for breath when Matt bobs down, presses his forehead to his. Kisses, eyelids half shut, licking Frank's lips, nuzzling his skin with his nose, crawling into his lap. He reaches for Frank's belt but Frank gently pushes his hands away with a flicker of panic, though he's hard enough to hurt. Just wants Matt's lax and blissful body against his, not shaking, not hurting. Doesn't want this to end. Matt curls against him, Frank holds on, breathing against his neck. Matt is still and steady in his arms. His breathing is slow, only a shade faster than sleep. He's so warm and relaxed that Frank feels he could drop off to sleep himself. He strokes Matt’s back lightly and Matt makes a little comfortable sound that makes Frank’s heart do something he's sure is audible.  
“You're gonna be ok.” Frank mumbles against his neck.  
“Mm. Sure you don't want…” Matt says vaguely, slipping his hand under Frank’s shirt and trailing the backs of his fingers across his stomach. Frank holds him all the tighter.  
“M’just enjoying the moment.” He says softly, running a hand through Matt’s hair. It's silky. Matt’s eyes are half closed and relaxed, lips slack with afterglow. His shirt is pulled taut in places by the way their bodies are pressed together, the shape of him is just so _right_ . Frank smiles and traces his perfect jaw line with the pad of his thumb before planting a kiss there. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” Frank says, voice low and husky against Matt’s skin. “I could just hold onto you and _look_ for… hours…” He leans down to brush his lips on Matt’s. Matt chuckles and squirms warmly against him.  
“I'd be ok with that.” He reaches up to cup Frank’s face. He reads it lazily, Frank’s body melting against the brick behind him as he does. He's practically dozing by the time Matt speaks, Matt’s thumb lightly stroking an eyelid.  
“What colour are they?” He breathes. The sound pulls a helpless little gasp from Frank.  
“Brown. Dark.” He whispers. “Didn't you… know that from a uh, report or somethin’?”  
“Mm.” Matt shrugs. “Not the same as hearing it from you.” Frank’s chest surges with something hot and he pulls Matt more comfortably into his lap. He shifts to press his chest more firmly against Matt’s shoulder and buries his face against it.  
“Let's not move huh let's just stay here.” He says. Matt lifts his head to kiss Frank’s jaw.  
“I'd be ok with that.”

*

Frank cooks for Matt that evening. He's afraid, actually, genuinely, that some safeguard between then and now will crumble if he does this, but in the end it's only a pasta bake. _Dad food_ Lisa had called it once and it had stuck, what they always ate when he was on leave and Maria was out with the girls. Their favourite. Frankie used to ask for seconds even when there was cookies and milk to have afterwards. Frank nearly slips and refers to it as such when Matt asks him what he's making. Frank doesn't remember what it's actually called, something his mom used to make that he adapted over the years with stuff his kids liked or didn't.  
“Sure you don’t want me to help?”  
“Just wanna do this for you.” Frank says gruffly.  
“Ok.” Matt’s fiddling absently with the edge of the kitchen counter. His head is down a little. “You’ve already done so much for me.” He sounds so serious and apologetic that Frank, somehow, can only laugh.  
“Matt.” He chuckles, turns away from him to throw chopped scallions into the pan.  
“It's just dinner."  
  
Frank serves Matt pasta in a gift set of dishes that Frank suspects Matt has never used, nice ones with a textured glaze. They eat and laugh and get through a couple of beers like two regular people for once. Frank watches Matt smile with a strange sort of blooming sensation in his chest, a settled sort of feeling, steadily growing stronger than the worry. The world doesn't end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes out quite short just because of where the chapter breaks ended up but the next chapter will be up tomorrow and is a lot longer. More drama up next heh.


	8. Blood

Matt isn't lying when he said he has it under control.  _ This _ time he says it, anyway. Truthfully, he had lied about it several times. Frank's concern, Foggy's... It had been too much, he'd tried. Of course, he'd never been good at lying directly.  
"Ok." Frank says, and smiles. A brief nod like a shift in gear and Frank stops compensating for himself. Mostly. It's a relief, like a weight has been lifted, like going to confession. He hasn't. Not since... But it's enough for now. Frank not marking every word and movement like it's a shot in Matt's direction, as if he could miss and hit him at any time, as if Matt's armour may fail with this footstep, this closed door. Matt still catches him looking. Every so often, if there's something big, like a motorbike or a loud bang on the street below. Checking he has it, really. But he does.

It's day five out of the box. Longer than he was in there. Frank's ribs are healing, but he probably wrenched them further carrying Matt, and that... that hurts. More than the scratches he made over his own heart when he truly lost himself down there, and the way his fingertips tingle with the memory of skin and blood under his nails every time he brushes his chest. And there it is. As much as he has it, it's still tenuous, brittle. He hasn't left the apartment, yet. Sometimes, his own heart gets loud. Louder than loud. Swallows him up, suffocating. Sometimes, it's all he can do to search for something else and focus until there's room to breathe again. Usually it's another heartbeat. More often than not it's Frank's.

Frank's heartbeat is familiar. As familiar as Foggy's by now, almost. The hair trigger way of jumping in speed at a moment's notice, ready for action, the way it gets slower when he's close, the little wobble that feels like a lurch in his chest when he looks at Matt. Sometimes he reaches out and makes contact after that feeling, a quick, one-armed hug, a brief kiss, a hand in his hair. Checking he's there. It's been that way since before the tunnels but it happens maybe a little more often, now. Otherwise Frank... Well he's doing better than Matt's ever seen him. He  _ sings _ sometimes, usually if he's cooking something which happens more often than Matt would ever have believed. Not anything complicated, mostly eggs, but it makes him so cheerful that Matt doesn't even manage to convincingly wince when he goes off-key, which is often.

*

Frank is in a deep sleep when Matt climbs onto the roof. Doesn't want to fail at this and have him know about it, just yet. He has to hear the city,  _ really _ hear it, just to see if he can focus again. The air is different up here, winding around him, and it's oddly freeing to be exposed to the city again. He takes a deep breath in and out and let's it wash over him, through him, the cars, sirens, shouting, talking...   
"Hello Matthew." He jumps, reels, finds her, motionless and perched on the edge of the roof.  
"Elektra." He tries to make his voice calm but the memory of emptiness and panic is too fresh and he can't quite catch his breath.  
"Relax, Matthew. Truce."  
"Truce?  _ Truce _ ? You think you can come here and..."  
"I just want to talk."  
"I don't want to talk." But he can't get a handle on her, and it's not just because she's muffled by her clothes. Physically, he can feel a shape, but he can't trust that alone, it's not fast enough. The air moves around her, she's  _ there _ but it's just a vague target. If she were to lunge at him...  
"They want me to kill you."  
"So try." He chokes, trying not to sway, trying to breathe. He could shout, he could call Frank up here.  
"I couldn't do it, obviously." She rises and paces a little, unconcerned, hands in the pockets of her coat as if this is a conversation with an ex boyfriend on a street corner. "That hole we put you in, it was  _ meant _ for Stick. We are losing ground and presumably he has information that is useful to us."  
"The Hand is 'us' now?" She makes a sharp 'tsk'ing sound with her teeth.  
"I'm part of something bigger now Matthew, I don't expect you to understand."  
"I don't expect that you understand it much either." He says, and it comes out gentle because there's pain in her voice and he can't... He sits. Right there on the wall, because if she was going to kill him he would already be dead.  
"But you didn't get Stick." He says, gestures for her to continue. His heart is hammering almost painfully, but it's also lurching and plunging. Elektra sits again, across the roof.  
"I thought, two birds one stone, I could lure him in with you as bait and make myself hate you enough to put you out of your misery."  
"Make yourself hate me?" He repeats weakly.  
"But it didn't  _ work _ Matthew, for all your pathetic attempts to fight, your crying, your  _ pleading _ . I couldn't  _ break _ you hard enough to  _ want _ you dead."  
"That's a relief." He says dryly, feels detached, spinning, can't quite believe that this is happening. "Why did you come here, Elektra."  
"Because I-" she cuts herself off with a hiss. "I have disappointed them. They want me to be this pure creature of war without attachments." She waves her hands. "And I  _ want _ it I do but that isn't  _ me _ -"  
"You can come  _ back _ Elektra anyone can come back."  
"Do you love him?" She throws it, voice sharp, like a knife and it seems to catch him between the ribs.  
"Yes." He says, breathless but clear because he owes her that, at least. She's pacing again, shaking her head around.  
" _ How _ after everything he... How can you love him how- when you couldn't love  _ me _ -" she's ranting and breathing hard though Matt isn't sure she needs that, now.  
"I  _ did _ Elektra I  _ do _ ." Matt stands, takes a step towards her, finds he can't make himself go closer than that. "I would have left it all. For you." She only laughs, unsteady, unsure.  
"What are you  _ talking _ about..." She scoffs. "You would never leave this, you would never-"  
"That night, I didn't lie to you, I couldn't lie to you"  
"You said... You'd do that... For me?" She's reeling now, confused turning her head as if by looking around she'll find her answers.  
"You don't remember?" She backs up.  
"Stop trying to confuse me Matthew..." She says slowly, dangerously.  
"What else have they taken, what else?" He demands. A sudden hope grows, he takes another step towards her.  
"No this isn't right-" she says vaguely, shakes her head. "You told me you couldn't- when you found- you abandoned me-"  
"Abandon you? No!" Matt's chest is full of something now, something a bit chipped and bloody, but real. "I would never give up on you. You know that. You know me." He says urgently, but she's shaking her head.  
"Stop talking stop lying..." She stumbles as she moves backwards. Her head angle changes suddenly and she goes still. "Time's up." She whispers, then without warning she vaults away. He rushes to the edge of the roof and tries to follow her with his senses but he loses her almost at once.

*

Matt doesn't tell Frank. He knows it's a mistake as it happens, as he says good morning and pretends like he got a wink of sleep, as he smiles and says he's fine. By the time they're brushing hips at the stove- frying bacon and pancakes respectively- it's easier to pretend it never happened. Imagining what could go down if he tells anyone about sitting and talking to the woman who subjected him to psychological torture is… He could  _ smell _ the horror when Frank saw the scratches on his chest, could feel it in his climbing heart rate as it dawned on him, the catch in his breath. He's not ready to feel it again. Seeing it in Frank makes it too real, closes the distance he's managed to wedge between himself and what happened. That alone is reason enough to keep it to himself for now. And Elektra herself. The hand are controlling her, at least in part. She wasn't lying, not that he could tell, and that's enough. Showing anyone else the tiny scoop of hope he's managed to hold together just might break it. It's wrong, it's how he got into this mess to begin with, but halfway through a plate of bacon pancakes and a mug of Frank-special coffee, he's laughing and it's too easy to say quiet.

Matt leaves the apartment that afternoon without any acknowledgement that this is significant progress. Matt hangs off Frank’s arm and finds as much to laugh about as he can, in part to misdirected from the suspicious looks Frank draws when his face is bruised and in part to distract himself from the shifting sensation as he moves away from the familiar touchstones of sound.

But it's ok. They sit in a familiar diner between Matt’s place and HQ. Matt loves it when Frank's all charm, his body language changes and it somehow comes so  _ easily  _ despite everything. Foggy drops in a little late and slightly flustered.  
“Had to stay late, difficult client.” He collapses opposite Matt. “Not as difficult as  _ you.” _ He nods at Frank. “But that's hardly a reasonable baseline for stress.” The movement of the air around Foggy’s head tells Matt that some of his hair has dislodged from where he gels it back these days. He frowns.  
“You doing alright, man?” He says quietly. “Taking time off for me hasn’t…”  
“What? No!” Foggy says, alarmed. “It’s nothing like that. Just, work stuff.” The rhythm of his heart doesn’t change but he’s clearly reluctant to talk about it. Frank steps in with a subject change because he’s good like that, on occasion.  
“Luke back from LA yet?”  
“Nah. He called, has to stay a few more days.”  
“Tell him t’give me a text when he gets back.” Frank says. Matt can hear a fond smile. “I owe him a drink.”  
“Wow Jess finally got you in her buddy-matchmaking web, huh?” Matt feels Frank shrug, but only because he’s so close. He’s having a go at focusing on a conversation at a newsstand a block away.  
“He’s a good guy.” Matt clearly hears the exact price and the wish of a good day from the customer quite clearly and returns to the diner before the other two realise he was elsewhere.

*

Matt’s thinking about his suit one night on the way to base. It’s not in the duffle dangling in his hand, and he misses the weight. Frank is carrying his own bag, change of clothes and towel like they’re on the way to the gym like a regular couple, and not a private underground base of operations for what can only be loosely referred to as ‘superheroes’ with it’s weirdly modern gym courtesy of Danny. He’s not missing his armour exactly, but he feels like it’s  _ time _ . Sure, the recovery took a lot longer than he had anticipated but he’s not rushing it now, he’s just confident.

Ironically, his thoughts are abruptly derailed by the sudden appearance of several almost silent men melting out of the casual grubby stillness of the alleyway. Matt sighs but there’s a strange flair in his chest as he throws aside his stick and bag. Frank does the same and rolls his shoulders, gets his hands up. Inconvenient, yeah, to get attacked in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and it’s  _ muggy _ , but nothing like an unexpected challenge to test the theory that he’s ready for this. Ninjas are tricky at the best of times but Frank and Matt fall into step as if there’s been no downtime at all. Frank is almost completely unarmed, carrying nothing but a combat knife that he hasn’t even bothered to draw. They pass contacts to each other like they’re playing around with Trish and Danny, smooth, practiced, almost comfortable. But that’s his mistake; complacency. Matt’s rapidly blocking and jabbing at one particularly fast and silent guy, he even misses some kicks, when there’s a low but unmistakable sound of laughter. Elektra...

It all happens too fast. Matt senses the man behind him too late to block the knife, a thin, tinny, razor sharp sounding thing. Small, easy to conceal until the last moment. But then Frank is there. He takes it, the wet fleshy noise makes Matt bite back a cry, but it doesn't go deep and Frank doesn't skip a beat, using the proximity of the unfortunate ninja to grapple him around the head and do one of those stomach-turningly efficient twists. The crunch would get Matt flinching ordinarily, only that cackling in his ears is getting deafeningly loud. Frank steps back to let the body hit the ground. He touches the handle lightly, clearly intending to leave it for now.  
"Get it out- get it out-" Matt moves but Frank obeys before he can reach him, grunting and pressing his left hand into the wound immediately. Matt grabs his arm to steady him but he shakes him off.  
"Not deep." Frank tells him, unconcerned. "Watch your back." Matt looks around warily, but even Elektra's laughter has faded, though the blood pounding in his ears is making it hard to place in which direction she is retreating. They stand, loosely back to back, Frank breathing only a little tightly, both frozen and waiting.  
"Gone." Matt says. And if Frank isn't screaming in pain, the knife was not coated whatever deadly poison had almost killed Elektra, once.

Matt crosses to retrieve their bags and his cane, Frank stashes the knife in his pocket.  
"Base isn't far, let's get you checked out and stitched up."  
"Jumping us like that plainclothes, I don't even have my..." Frank tenses suddenly, takes a step back from the direction they'd been walking.  
"More. Two o clock." He says, gesturing. Matt takes a sharp breath in, alarmed, but there's nothing there that he can sense.  
"Where- what-" he reaches his senses out, but can't grasp anything, goes deeper and comes up blank. Even his basic grasp of space, the movement of the air, gets him nothing.  
"Right there- right _there_!" Frank lurches at it but Matt yanks him back, puts himself between Frank and the apparent danger.  
"I can't- Frank-"  
"S'right _there_ Red!" He says, loud, gestures frantically, dodges round Matt, swipes at nothing, hits nothing.  
"What-" he's agitated now. Tries for another hit and again, nothing lands.  
"Frank you're hallucinating-"  
"No listen to me they're here they-" his volume has gone up, his heart is dangerously rapid, even by his usual standards.  
"Frank-" Matt reaches for his shoulder and he flinches away.  
"No- y'not- listen to me-" he's breathing too fast.  
"Elektra what have you done." Matt calls softly, because there is no doubt that she has stuck around to watch.  
"It was _meant_ for _you_." It's hard to tell where the voice is coming from. Frank picks a direction and lunges that way but Matt grabs his arm and pulls it behind his back. Frank roars angrily and tries to pull from Matt’s grasp, but Matt anticipated that and hangs on.  
"Put him right." Matt says, voice calm but hard, neutralising Frank's increasingly violent struggles.  
"It will wear off. Eventually. Although with him? Hard to be sure..." She giggles. "He could do some serious damage in this state."  
"What have you done." Matt says again, grabs Frank’s other arm even as he yells and grunts and tries to throw him off.  
"Just some particularly nasty hallucinogens and a smidgen of what we gave you last time to… you know, scramble up all that mental organisation you're so fond of. They- we- use it to train our boys, kind of a test. For you… well, you felt it last time."  
"Elektra..." and the bottom falls out of his stomach because what that could mean for Frank is... Matt can't begin to think about it, not with him struggling and bleeding within breathing distance.  
"Anyway, not the desired effect but... Entertaining. I'll leave you to it then."

He hears her voice move away and then he turns Frank around in his arms, grabs his head in both hands even as he grabs Matt's arms to push him away. Memories of so many traded fists have their uses. He's cursing loudly, desperately. Turning his head, ducking and lurching away from things that aren't there.  
"Frank, listen, listen, it's me, it's Matt." The wish to have the ability to look him in the eye is the opposite of helpful, but it burrows in anyway. He strokes his cheekbones with his thumbs, slow and steady, brushing skin that is pulled taught from widened eyes. Frank stops shouting, reaches for his face. His hands are shaking, one of them bloody but that doesn't matter now.  
"Matt, Matt I can't- they won't-" his voice is suddenly low, thin and breathless and if he doesn't slow his breathing soon he's going to pass out.  
"It's not real Frank you have to listen to me, you've been drugged."  
"No no Matt you're- Matt you're-" he tries to pull away but Matt hangs on.  
"You've been stabbed ok, just close your eyes and keep pressure on that and we're going to base, don't worry about anything else."  
"B-but there's- you-"  
"Trust me, please trust me. Close your eyes" He tips their foreheads together, puts his arms around Frank's shoulders. He feels Frank's eyelids flick shut obediently. That steadies him a little.  
"Ok, ok." Frank presses his mouth shut, nods too many times.  
"Hang in there." Matt tells him softly.


	9. Falter

Matt's attempts to keep Frank's wound pressurised don't hold up so well. Frank's disoriented and weakened from hyperventilating, so it isn't much trouble for Matt to hang on when he tries to pull away or jerks at gunshots and explosions that only he can hear, despite the fact it's probably speeding up the bleeding.  
"Frank, keep it together." He orders, barks it as sharply as he dares. The commands manage to just about stop him from wrenching his way out of Matt's arms. Nobody looks twice at what could easily be mistaken for a drunk friend being dragged home.

Frank is staggering and Matt's words have ceased to be quite so effective by the time he's pulling him up the steps at the station.  
"No-  _ Fuck _ \- if you're gonna do it then do it m'ready-" he's growling, slurring slightly. The timing is fortunate, or maybe Frank feels the sag in Matt's tensed muscles, because his knees hold up until they are a little way into the rec room and then they collapse. He's still shouting and angry, trying to shove Matt away, trying to get up. Matt keeps a distance to avoid a couple of defensive swings, lets him pant and turn his head to stare around the room. His heart is beating a rapid rhythm, the loudest thing in the room it seems to Matt.  
"No, no no-" he moans and gasps for breath, Matt can sense him blinking hard now. He approaches carefully, gets a hand on each shoulder.  
"Frank you're safe."  
"No!" He shouts, tries to rise, shove Matt away, falls, wheezing. "I have to- have to help- have to get- let me go-"  
“Frank stop it's not real-”   
“Y’always tryna  _ stop _ me let me- let me go you can’t- I gotta-” Matt has no doubt this is the same level of agitation that once had Frank throw three furious Haymakers at him, one after the other.  As it is, Frank is barely keeping himself upright, let alone finding the strength to try anything like that. He tries to fight, because he's Frank and that's just how he defaults, just what he's always done. Staggers to his feet, grunting. His heart sounds bad, something mechanically unsteady about it, rhythm thrown out of whack. Matt feels it like it’s his own, like a single heartbeat is all he can feel again, stuttering and overwhelming and somehow the only fragile thing keeping the force of nature that is Frank Castle alive. It seems impossible. He's lurches at Matt, who barely dodges, body so wound up with the reeling terror of needing to calm him, not being able to do it.  
“Frank-”  
“No Red  _ no _ you’re always- stop me doin’ what’s- what I  _ need _ to-” Matt dodges around what can barely be interpreted as an attack, maneuvers close and catches Frank around the body in time to lower him down. He's struggling, but Matt overpowers him with disturbing ease.  
"Frank, please." He changes tactic to pleading, cups his face with one hand even as he tries to pull away.  
"No Red  _ no _ I have to- I need-" his boots slide on the floor tiles as he tries to shuffle backwards.  
"Frank." Matt says, tries to steady him. "Please  _ please _ breathe." His voice cracks. He grips both of his upper arms. "You're safe it isn't real, Frank, we're safe here, they can't hurt you."  
"You can't stop me- you can't  _ stop _ me-" and it's half a taunt and half a plea and his voice is cracking through to something shaking and broken under the anger and panic. His hands come up and grip Matt's wrists and he's shuddering with every breath that heaves out of him. But he's not fighting now.  
"That's it, breathe, there's no danger here." And he yanks away suddenly, covers his face, sinks to the ground, arms over his head, muttering. "I need to get some help, ok?" Matt says, stands. Frank reaches for him, desperately.  
"No don't leave please don't leave I'm sorry I'm sorry I'll try I'll..." He's curled up and shaking and so unlike any version of Frank Castle that Matt has known that he has to drop to his knees beside him and take his reaching hand. Frank scrambles, weakly, and Matt drags his torso onto his lap. He clings on, fists clenched tight, hands balling up his shirt.

Matt is on the point of panic himself when Frank's heart rate begins to ease off just a little. Steady, none of the wobbling. He waits, for Frank to sink further to the ground, before moving gently away. Frank's still conscious, just weak and shaking and mumbling to himself. He tries to open his eyes when Matt comes back with the medical gear and startles, heart jumping.  
"Matt what's wrong with your- Matt your  _ face _ -"  
"Shh, it's not real, trust me, I just gotta stitch you up, alright?" Strokes his hair until he lets him get closer and then he clings on compulsively. Frank clenches his jaw, presses his eyes shut, stifles the involuntary pained sounds as Matt sorts out the stab wound. It's fairly small and clean and a quick fix. He's only barely conscious by the time Matt is bandaging him up, and it's a relief when his heart starts to slow again. Anything to give it a break, even stress-induced unconsciousness at this point, has to be a positive. Matt sits, cradling Frank in his arms for only a few minutes, wondering if it's safe to leave him alone to make a call to Claire, when he hears footsteps. He zeros in, to find to his immense relief that it's Jessica.

"Hey, hey Jess, don't... freak out, he's been drugged." She stares, then approaches, direct but not loud.  
"Ok, what's wrong with him?" Business at once, dropping to her knees beside them.  
"Hallucinations, panicked, a lot, passed out when I was stitching him up but he hasn't lost much blood, his heart was unsteady earlier but it’s alright now- too many stress hormones." Matt swallows and takes a shallow breath in to steady himself, forces himself to stop rambling.  
"Who?"  
"Elektra."  
"Anyone ever tell her there are other ways to poison someone than through a stab wound?"  
"Was meant for me." Matt mutters. "S'uh, she said they gave it to me, uh, before, supposed to uh, break down how I cope with my senses. You know, my mental stuff." Jessica's head shoots up in that way that means she's staring.  
“Jesus.” She mutters. Matt can't even bring himself to argue with her choice of curses. “Right he’ll be… He’ll need you when he wakes up Matt and he's not going to be out for long if he's only out from stress you know what he's like, c’mon we should move him.” She helps Matt heave Frank upright.

Frank seems so much smaller than he should, somehow, all limp and helpless between them. Jess can support Frank’s weight without any trouble, but with Matt spreading the load, they manage to get him into his bunk without waking him. Matt settles beside him, takes his hand, strokes it carefully. Frank’s hands are distractingly smooth, considering, like supple worn leather. Unexpectedly dexterous and clever when they move. Matt has never been able to bring himself to ask if Frank ever played a musical instrument. As if doing so would break the sanctity of his past life, somehow. He imagines it anyway, feeling his fingers twitch in his, how they so efficiently dismantle and reassemble weaponry, how they would feel climbing up around down piano keys. Not elegant, just admirably practical. Jessica nods to him, Matt sitting against the headboard with Frank’s hand on his lap, and rushes away to call Claire.

*

Frank’s first waking sound is a sleep-dulled shout of panic. He tries to throw himself from the bed but Matt is ready, tugs his hand towards him and catches his waist.  
“Frank. It's me.”  
“Matt?” He’s turning his head distractedly, looking around and around the room, distressed, grunting, showing all the signs of being about to work himself into a frenzy again.  
“S’ok, Frank.” He says softly. Puts his hand in his hair, grips his shoulder. “You’re safe, I promise you're safe.” And it breaks. A shuddering breath, he moans, drags himself up towards Matt and Matt holds him, gripping him around the shoulders. He wraps his arms around Matt’s middle and hides his face in his abdomen. Matt can feel his body going rigid as he tries to stifle his sobs, but he just hushes him, rubs his back. His heart sounds normal for now but it's becoming uncomfortably rapid.  
“S’too much it's t-too… Matt- _Matt…”_ He shifts uncomfortably.  
“You're safe, you're ok we just have to ride this out.” His hands clench and unclench on Matt’s shirt.  
“K-keep seein’ things.” He mutters. “C-can't… oh g-god did I hurt you did I-” He jolts in Matt’s arms.  
“No, no, you didn't touch me.”  
“But I tried? I'm sorry I'm sorry-” he's crying, deep, horrified.  
“Shh you didn't come close, shh sweetheart please.” Matt feels his voice crack, grips Frank a little tighter.  
“All those times we fought.” Frank says, voice small and tremulous. “I was trying to hurt you, it ain’t- it ain’t _right_ -”  
“Frank, I gave as good as I got.” It's a lie, but Matt is hardly willing to talk about _that_ , not after more recent terrors and certainly not now. “We didn't know what we’d be to each other.”  
“H-how can I expect you to-”  
“You know you’re too slow to get me in a fist fight, old man.” Matt smiles and Frank lets out a choking sound that doesn't quite make it to a laugh. “You were drugged out of your mind.”  
“No w-what if, what if that’s just me-”  
“Listen, Frank.”  
“Matt d-don't you _don’t_ have to do this, m’not- you shouldn't- _I_ shouldn't-”  
“No listen- _listen_ I love you, Frank, I know you, and I...” He trails off. At the word ‘love’, Frank has gone still, stiff.  
“Y-you…” He says eventually, gulps, Matt can feel his breath catch against his stomach.  
“You gotta know that.” Matt says helplessly. Frank raises his head to look at him, Matt holds his face to trace his familiar features, slack with shock. Wipes away the streaks of tears.  
“Y’mean it?” He’s really incredulous, and that knocks the breath out of Matt because how could he _not_ know, how…  
“Frank, when I was down there…” His voice cuts off abruptly at a croak and he has to wait and breathe and feel Frank, still twitching erratically, shove himself upright to kneel level with him. Frank’s breathing is slower now but tight, focused, listening.  


He steadies himself on Matt’s shoulders hushed, speechless. Heart doing something funny but not in a way that gets Matt worried. Matt takes a breath and speaks, doesn't think.  
“The thought of you, Frank. Just, just h-holding me just, you're so  _ careful _ all the time. A-and not, it's not as if you don't  _ know _ I could kick your ass, you're just, you  _ care _ . Only thing that kept me, only way I could s-stop...” He has one hand on his chest again and can't seem to move it away, can't articulate, he's too choked, and Frank hasn't moved. He's just staring. Matt starts to doubt he's heard, maybe the hallucinations have taken him too far away again, but then he lets out a breath and it's almost a sigh, almost a whimper. He seems to half collapse as he leans towards Matt, close enough to taste his breath and then closer still, shaking, head tilting to brush Matt’s lips with his. He smells so  _ deeply _ of  _ Frank smell _ , just the distinctive scents of his particular sweat with an edge of gunpowder and leather and steel that he can never seem to shake, the underlying lingering smell of adrenaline. Matt clearly feels his eyelashes sweep the air as he shuts his eyes.  
“Matt…” He’s breathless, voice the smallest whisper. “I've l-loved you for so long…  I don't  _ know _ when it started.” Matt makes a stifled sound, pulls Frank closer, puts their foreheads together. Hearing the words is  _ more _ than be thought it would be. He knew, thought he did, Frank never had to  _ say _ it, he didn't think he had to say it back.  “Maybe it started when you came to find me after… After everything and I didn't deserve it I didn't…”  
“Don't.” Matt says and Frank nods. “What do  _ you _ want, Frank.” He's silent for some time.  
“I don't wanna let go of this, whatever it is.” He breathes, considering. “But I don't wanna hurt you, Matt. Don't wanna…  _ Disappoint _ you an’ I don't know if…”  
“Frank.” Matt kisses him, softly, on the mouth. Wraps his arms around him. “I know you.” He noses gently along his jaw up past his ear, across his temple. Kisses his scar. “I love you.” Frank drops his head onto Matt’s shoulder, crying again, quiet, face bunched up, hands gripped on Matt’s upper arms. They sit like that for some time, and Frank settles slowly.

“How is it now?” Matt says softly.  
“Not s’bad if I keep my eyes closed.” Frank mumbles. “Hearin’ things but, you’re real I know that I know that.” He presses against Matt, shifts to curl against his chest. Matt rests his chin against the top of Frank’s head, carefully runs his palm up and down his back.  
“What d’you need.”  
“Just keep talkin’ to me, please.” His breath shudders. He lowers his voice then, speaks as if he's confessing some sin, so quietly that anyone else wouldn't make out the words.”Can hear my kids.” Matt swallows the horror and tightens his arms around him.  
“Focus on my voice.” Matt says as evenly as he can manage. “Jessica will be back soon, you going to be ok with her here?”  
“Jess?” Frank says, shaky smile in his voice. “Yeah, yeah.” He blanches. “No-one else don't want them to s-see me like… Like this.” Matt understands that, perfectly. The same stomach-turning shame that had him hiding the extent to which he lost himself down in the tunnels. Pride, yes, but simply knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to avoid.

“Hey Frank.” Jess says, flops down on the bunk across from them.  
“Hey.” He smiles and Matt can feel in his body that it's a real one. Jess isn't censoring herself at all and Matt’s grateful for that, though he doesn't know what he expected.  
“Doing OK?”  
“Better.” It's a lie, Matt gives him a quick squeeze but doesn't say anything. “Could really use one of those drinks o’yours right about now.” Matt’s close enough to feel his mouth move as he smiles. Jess snorts.  
“Yeah well I'm  _ not _ being responsible for some weird drug-on-drug interaction. If I kill you, Matt will kill me and that will probably kill  _ Matt _ and you know, it’ll be a whole  __ thing.”  
“Y’got a point. Might be best.” They chuckle together for a moment.  
“Rain check on that drink, though.” Jess says. “I'll corrupt your military sensibilities one day, Castle.” He puffs out a breath of laughter through his nose.  
“What have I agreed to?”  
“A world of pain, probably.” Jess says cheerfully. “But you’ll thank me at the time, if not so much after.”

*

It's a long night. Claire comes in, checks Frank over and leaves. Her instructions are predictable. Track his vitals, no caffeine (ever), doesn't mention medication this time, maybe because she can sense that Frank is barely keeping it together as it is and bugging him about that again won't help. Call her if anything changes.   
  
Jess comes and goes, but mostly Matt just stays within arms reach of Frank and makes sure he keeps drinking water. Frank himself is fluctuating in terms of grasp on reality and severity. He hits exhaustion which brings with it confused, half-conscious mumbling, Frank for the most part half curled on his side with his arms over his head. Matt has to constantly remind him where he is just to keep the panic from setting in. He catches Maria's name a few times. The names of others, Frank's voice is different when he thinks he's talking to them. Military. Old friends, lost friends maybe. He even catches 'Sir' once or twice.    
"Frank you're safe it's Matt, you're ok." He keeps repeating it, as much to himself as to Frank who has learned by now that it's not safe to open his eyes. Sleep gets him eventually, but it's fitful and he wakes often, shaking and frozen with some kind of base terror that Matt can never really chase away, even if Frank's lucid enough to know it isn't triggered by anything real.   
  
But it fades. Matt falls into a doze and then a real sleep as Frank's own sleep stabilises. When he wakes up, hours later, to the sounds of his friends making a whole lot of noise in the kitchen, Frank is still but awake, holding the arm Matt has tucked around him. Matt leans to kiss the back of his neck.  
“Hey, you.” He says softly. “Better?”  
“Much.” Frank feels lax and weak but he's smiling and his heart is that pace he only gets down to when he's in Matt’s arms. He’s clinging to Matt’s arm a little more firmly than he would usually, and he's a little bit  _ too _ still, breathing forcibly quiet. It would be silent to someone with ordinary hearing. Still, Matt didn't detect a lie.  
“No more hallucinations.”  
“Nah.” He says shortly, but his voice is mild. "Thanks." Frank says after a moment. "I don't know how I woulda... Thanks."   
"You took that knife for me, Frank.” Matt says heavily, shoving aside the guilt for now, can't let it out yet, has to stay focused on Frank. “You'd do the same for me. Have done, actually." Frank nods.

He seems a bit vague and dazed, so Matt just waits, holds him steadily. Frank's stomach makes a sudden loud rumble.  
“I'm fucking starving.” He chuckles and gives his head a shake.  
“Come on, we’ll see about some food, huh?” Matt helps him up, just so he doesn't pull the stitches and Frank is steady enough on his feet to walk to the kitchen unaided.

Jessica and Foggy have purchased an intense volume of waffles and Frank makes some wordless, almost relieved sound of approval before hunkering down and eating more of them than Matt has ever witnessed anyone but Luke manage in one sitting. He’s alternately shoveling them into his mouth and washing them down with gulps of water, Matt instinctively staying close, shoulders almost touching. Jess is flanking Frank’s other side, just in case he needs it. Despite his enthusiasm with the waffles, Frank’s shoulders are a little bunched up and he keeps sweeping the room with his eyes.  
“The others are coming in uh…” Jess clicks her phone open to check. “Just over an hour.”  
“Right.” Matt says, stomach tightening.  
“We need to discuss what we do next.”


	10. Intervention

Matt tries not to imagine that the little group around him right now is an intervention. They certainly aren't thinking about it that way, maybe they should be.  
"Right so Elektra is following you, what do we do when we see her next time?" Jess's voice is strangely dark and rough. Frank doesn't say anything.   
Matt isn't sure he should be here, but he sounded sure enough that he was up to it. "We defend ourselves." It's Danny who says it. "By whatever means necessary."   
"No." Matt blurts before he can stop himself and next thing he knows everyone is staring at him. He turns his cane nervously in his hands.   
"She's... I don't think she's right."   
"Well that much is obvious." Jess says.   
"N-no she... When we last spoke she didn't remember things she should have, things we shared together, it was like she didn't have all her memories."   
"Like they brainwashed her?" Danny says slowly. Matt nods but Jess's head angle quirks to the side and she takes a step forward.   
"When did you last see her." Jess says sharply.   
"I..." He struggles to formulate a lie but he's not fast enough.   
"Tell me Matt." Jess says. Frank has gone tense, as if he knows already.   
"Two weeks ago." Jessica lets out an angry sound of disgust. Frank physically jolts. "On the roof I... I hadn't been outside yet, wanted to try it without you seeing me Frank, in case I wasn't ready and then..."   
"Matt you..." Frank mutters, trails off.   
"I know Frank I know and I'm sorry I am I just couldn't..."   
"What did you think I'd do?" Frank says, voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Did you think I'd kill her if you asked me not to? Did you..." He stops, voice almost faltering into something weaker.   
"No, no nothing like that I didn't want you to... I couldn't bare you to..." Matt can't speak.   
"No. No Matt I can't... Right now I can't..." Frank's hand is clasped tightly over the bandaged stab wound, his heart is pounding and he's striding from the room. Matt wants to follow him, call after him, but he's frozen and tongue tied and Frank has gone.

Matt groans and sits heavily in one of the stools around the kitchen counters. He drops his head into his hands.  
"Matt." Jessica says, voice still hard. "We needed that. We could have used that before... You know what he went through. To get to you, he-"   
"Don't you think I know all that?" Matt says, tries to say it harshly but his voice wavers without permission. "I couldn't see him worry again." He mumbles. "Everything was getting better and I couldn't do it." He realises he's got his hand hovering over his heart and drops it with some effort. "I know it was a mistake." She shakes her head.   
"Fuck, Matt. And now you want us to help the woman who..."   
"Please, Jess." Matt tries to let his face look as imploring as he feels. "They're doing something to her, I want... I want her to have a chance. To make her choices on her own." Jess stares at him and then turns and paces away a few steps, shoving a hand distractedly through her hair.

"Alright." Danny sits beside him and puts a hand on his back. "If you want to help her, how do we do that?"  
"I know someone who could be able to help." Foggy. Matt lifts his head and turns to get a better grasp of where he's standing. He appears to be deliberately not looking at Matt and his voice is tight but his face is bunched up in that determined way of his. God, he's hurt Foggy again. And Foggy is still going to try to help. He drops his head back into his hands. What did he do to deserve friends who prove over and over that they're too good for him?   
"I'm going to make a call if you all agree to this." Foggy says. "Jess, leave the lecturing of this piece of shit to me, you take that one." He nods his head in the direction of the quarters where Matt is trying his best not to listen to Frank where he's standing, his forehead pressed against the wall behind his bunk, hands balled into fists, struggling to get his breathing under control.   
"You're my favourite piece of shit friend." Jess says to Matt, half fondness, half resigned exasperation. Matt thinks that this might change when she sees the state Frank is in right now, but he can't bring himself to speak

"Does anyone object." Foggy says, a little nervously. "To me inviting round a world class spy?"  
"A... What?"   
"My client." Foggy says. "The tricky one. It's Natasha Romanoff."   
"Clint's friend Natasha?" Danny says.   
"Black Widow Natasha?" Says Jess.   
"That's the one." Foggy rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I think now is a good time to tell you guys, now it might be best to call her in."   
"You think she'll help?" Matt manages to keep his voice steady but it's a bit strained.   
"Yeah, she owes me one." Foggy admits. "I uh, think we can trust her. You know, as much as we can trust a spy." _Probably more than you can trust me._ Matt thinks and then wants to kick himself for being so fucking self pitying. _Take some goddamn responsibility, Murdock._

*

Jessica leaves to go help Frank back from wherever Matt's betrayal has taken him and Foggy takes the stairs to make the call. Danny makes his excuses and slips off to the dojo, leaving Matt alone, wishing Luke was here, and trying his best to focus on the sounds coming off the subway station down the line instead of the talk Jess and Frank are having. Inevitably, this fails and he gets the gist anyway. Frank's hurting and doesn't know why because he thinks he understands why Matt didn't tell him. Jessica is patiently trying to explain his own reaction to him. ' _You went through shit because of this and it's at least partly Matt's fault you have a right to be mad._ ’  At least partly. _'No I don't blame him for not trusting me-_ ' Matt presses his eyes shut. His throat burns. ' _That's not why he did it Frank._ ' Jess says heavily: _'He didn't want to see you afraid for him again._ ' Matt tears his senses away from that to the pattern of punches and kicks Danny is already hammering at one of the bags.

"Hey buddy." Foggy slides onto the stool beside Matt.  
"She'll help."   
"Oh, ok, great. Thanks Fog." Matt says tightly.   
"What have they been saying?" Foggy says, not unkindly.   
"Been trying not to listen in."   
"Yeah ok but what have they been saying?" Matt sighs.   
"Frank's having trouble processing it." He says heavily.   
"Yeah, what I expected." Foggy shakes his head. "You really are as bad as each other." Matt's stomach turns at that.   
"Foggy..."   
"Shut up with the self hatred crap I can already hear you thinking it, maybe that's my superpower, huh?" He grips Matt's shoulder, shakes it a little.   
"Just listen ok? You'd been through a lot, nobody blames you. It's not... As _simple_ as you just lied to make it easier for yourself." _Again_ . "You made a bad decision based on some pretty extreme trauma and Frank got hurt. Maybe it would have happened anyway."   
"Foggy..."   
"I'm not done." He's still holding Matt's shoulder. His heart speeds up a little. "Look. I get that you two are good for each other, I've seen it, it's weird and it's sappy and it's kind of a bit beautiful, actually." He sighs. "But maybe you wanna be careful not to get too... Dependent? In light of what's happened recently, you've both been doing some leaning... which is good!" He says quickly. "That you're there for each other. But..." Foggy waves a hand in the vague direction of Frank, he's actually a good few yards in the wrong direction but in his defence, there are a few walls in the way and Matt catches his meaning. "You're both kinda isolated. You're both not _huge_ on self worth so, you know. Things could get sorta unhealthy." This isn't exactly how Matt expected the conversation to go. He realises his mouth has been hanging open for several seconds.   
"Y-yeah I guess you're... You're right Foggy, thank you..." Foggy lets out a huge sigh of relief and the tension drops out of his shoulders.   
"Oh thank god, I was worried." Matt lets his mouth quirk up on one side.   
"Hey what d'you think I'd be all possessive and..." He frowns. "How are we gonna do this? Frank's not huge on making friends."   
"The thing with Luke will help." Foggy says. "I'm not saying you both need to become blazing socialites. Just y'know. He needs to be able to function without that thing you do, for instance."   
"What thing?" Matt catches the eye-roll in the slight pause and Foggy's body language.   
"You know the cute if mildly nauseating little nudge you give him when you notice he's freaking out. Or I assume that's what you're doing, I've met trees that are easier to read than him." Matt blinks and jumps to his feet   
"When is Ms Romanoff making an appearance?"   
"Not until tomorrow morning. You're doing your 'following a lead' face." Foggy says suspiciously.   
"Yeah, I need to go out." He stands, grabs his stick and unfolds it.   
"You think this is the best idea..."   
"It's light out." Matt says dismissively. "I just have a couple of errands to run. Call me if you need me."

*

Frank dreams of a dark room. He can't move, hands hurt, face hurts. Shadows on the ceiling. Screaming. Maria... That's... No Matt, it's _Matt_ . He struggles but it's useless. Tries to wrench his hands out of whatever's holding them but it's not just leather restraints. Pain, searing, incapacitating. He screams against it, yells, tries to rock the bed he's strapped to, but it's impossibly solid. _Shh sweetheart_ ... The shadows on the ceiling shift, a body thrown about. Crashing. Yanks at his hands but they just tear and bleed and crack don't budge. His ankles are tethered and his legs won't kick. Straps cut into his chest. _You're safe.._ . The words are too soft, mocking. The cries are frantic now, deafening, echoing, distorting. Edged with distant gunfire over miles of open country. _What do you need?_ Needs to get out, get to- Matt- Matt is, the screaming has a gurgling edge, a ripping, croaking screech. The thudding becomes sickening, bones crunching. Frank's every struggle seems to bind him more tightly to the bed, searing his chest, dragging at his ribs. The smell of grass and blood and dirt and the sound Matt's fading, weakening screams. A flash of light. _Bang_ .   
  
Frank's eyes shoot open, he's gasping, tangled in his blanket, fighting with it. It's dark. Reaches for Matt, finds only the edge of the single mattress. His heart is thudding in his ears. Isn't it always these days? He shoves himself upright and tries not to feel like he needs Matt's arms around him because that's... That makes his stomach turn and his eyes get hot. Matt got him here. _No_ , no that isn't right Matt... He just couldn't talk about it, _her_ . Protecting her. Or Frank. He doesn't know. Should talk to him, really. If he doesn't blame Matt, why doesn't he want to see him right now? He groans and kneads his eyes with the heels of his hands. Staggers out of bed and into the nearest pair of sweatpants. He hasn't folded them up which is a strangely displacing realisation. It takes him several seconds to pull the right leg outside out and yank them on before he pads into the kitchen.   
  
Water, or decaf. He remembers that much from last night. Claire made it very clear. He runs a hand over his chest, hunched over on one of the bar stools. His heart feels fine, he thinks as he feels his ribs. They're still healing from the ninjas, but he can press hard enough to feel his heartbeat. Matt's scratches have reduced to pink, soft, mostly healed scars. Matt again. He sighs, swigs the water, blinks the spidery tiredness out of his eyes. It's 4:46 am according to the clock on the wall.   
  
He's considering getting some breakfast cereal when there's a sound.   
"Wait." He hears clearly. Frowns.   
"Matt?" He turns. Matt is in full costume save for the mask which is held loosely in his right hand. He's in the doorway, doesn't enter the room.   
"Frank." He says softly, fidgets, can't seem to lift his head up. "I uh, this isn't an apology. I just... Should have done this sooner. And I think you... I'm not trying to make what I did go away, just want you to know that."   
"What..." Frank starts, but then there's the clattering rhythm of claws on tiles and a smiley, tongue out muzzle appears from behind Matt's legs.   
"Toldya to wait." Matt says to the dog, a little sulkily. He looks up at Matt, then sniffs the air and sees Frank.   
  
Frank slides off the bar stool and onto his knees and the dog bounds, leaps into his arms. He catches his momentum, almost bowled backwards, and he's being licked all over his face and he's laughing but it's tight and his eyes burn a little.   
"Hey... Hey buddy." His voice sounds choked, even to him. The dog weaves in and out of his arms, whole body swinging with his tail as he sniffs Frank's clothes, circles him. Circles back intermittently to aim a lick at his chin. "I know, I _know_ man, things got weird. I had to go." Frank says, voice low. _This asshole got me arrested_ he wants to add but he's not ready to joke like that with Matt at the moment. He reaches out to pet his soft head, scratch behind his ears.   
"Where'd you find him?" Matt is still lurking in the doorway, plastic bag in his hand now. "Come in. I'm not...  I wanna talk ok. Stop hidin' from me." Matt nods, approaches sheepishly and sits on one of the sofas. He looks all kinds of dumb, sitting back against the cushions in his body armour.   
"I looked him up. After... The Irish. I smelled the dog on you and I wanted to make sure he was ok. A rescue centre picked him up, one of those foster places and the cop who found him was taking care of him. He was up for adoption, Lynn couldn't keep him really, kept making time to walk him she didn't really have. Nobody wanted him but her." Frank gets a flair of affection for this cop he's never met.   
"How d'you know all that?" The dog is nosing at his hand for more head scratches and he obliges, smiling loosely.   
"We talked. She was mostly concerned as to why Daredevil wanted a dog anyway. I won her over, she's going to set it up like her cousin took him off her hands. I'm taking him back in a couple of weeks so she can see he's ok. She wants me to go see her if you ever need someone to dog sit." Frank stares.   
"You negotiated all that looking... Like that?" Matt shrugs.   
"He came up and started sniffing me, wagging his tail, looking around for... Well, you."   
"Oh." Frank gets the dog's head in his hands and his eyes close a bit as Frank strokes both sides of his head around his ears. His tongue lolls out. Frank's throat stings and he blinks a few times. “You miss me buddy?” _Why?_   He wants to know, he hardly brought any good fortune to him. Nearly got him killed, even.  
"She calls him Cupcake, Lynn. Not really a name, just a nickname, but he answers to it." Frank makes a face but secretly files that away.   
"He answers to whatever you say in the right tone, he's a dog." He says, unconvincing even to himself.   
  
Frank sits back on the ground, kneeling is pulling at his stitches. He scratches Cupcake under the neck and resists the urge to just throw his arms around his neck and bury his face against his flank like a kid.   
"Look Matt." Cupcake rests his head on Frank's knee and he thoughtlessly strokes his head. "I get it, ok? I know you couldn't tell me-"   
"-Frank-"   
"-No it doesn't matter why, I know you weren't tryin' to... Hurt me." He drops his head, swallows. Cupcake whines. "S'ok buddy, m'ok." Frank mutters. "But she _did_ hurt me, an’ I know she was tryin' to get _you_ ." He's not even sure where he's going, he's sure he had a point.   
"Frank it's ok if you feel like I... It's ok if you don't want..."   
"Matt don't be like that I fucking _love_ you man." Frank laughs breathlessly, drops his head, shakes it. He looks up at Matt, who is approximating his direction with his (lack of) gaze. He hasn't swept his hair to the side and it's sticking up more on the left than the right. He looks like a picture, but also like he's trying not to do that puppy-dog face of his, as if he knows what that does to Frank. "I love you and nothing's... I just need a little time.” Frank finishes getting the words out with some relief.  
"Ok, ok I'll just..." Matt moves as if to get up.   
"No I mean, it's not that I don't wanna _see_ you _._ " Frank says. "I don't want you to _hide_ I just can't... My head ain't right and I need to..." He can't think of the right words.   
"Rest up?" Matt supplies.   
"Yeah I guess." Frank shifts and Cupcake moves to let him stand. He crosses to Matt. Frank leans down and kisses him lightly on the top of his head, then moves away to get dressed. "Walking the dog." He explains. "Don't beat yourself up ok?"

*

"Hello Frank." Frank doesn't startle, but that's mostly because he's already tensed up. It has more or less the same effect. 'Fake it til' you make it.' Jess had said once.  
"Hey Micro." Frank doesn't turn around to speak to him, just leans back a little in his chair. Cupcake doesn't react. A constant stream of pedestrians are hailing the exterior of the diner with sound and probably smells, Frank is pretty used to not being especially proficient there.   
"You look good." Micro says. Frank doesn't bother raising an eyebrow. He has his back to the other man and 'Microchip' is not _that_ good. He's also not one for compliments, generally.   
"Feel pretty good." Frank shrugs. Three days ago, it would have been true. Microchip chuckles.   
"Blue shirt and sunglasses? What did he neuter you?" Frank turns in his chair so that Micro can see his smile, lips pulled back over his canines a little. He's not hugely concerned with looking intimidating, he knows the effect is a bit dulled by the washed out jeans and the hair, but he also knows he far outpaces Micro in terms of combat proficiency.   
"Been a while. You make the effort to come talk to me and that's how you're playing this?"   
"You're right Frank, it's been a while." He hears him sip at his drink. "The streets have been getting real nasty since you left 'em to rot." Frank chuckles.   
"You say that like I haven't been doin' anything..."   
"Oh I'm sure he's been keeping you real busy with this and that." Frank can hear an unpleasant smile in his voice.   
"What's it to you?"   
"I have a stacking list of leads for cases I don't have the skills to operate."   
"An' you think coming here and insulting me is going to get you what you want?"   
"I know it is. You're restless, your new friends don't respect what you are. You've got something inside you that they want to bury with all these rules, use it when it suits them."   
"And what you want isn't to use me, huh?"   
"What I want is a lot of trash off the streets. You're the only man I know with the skills and the drive to get that done." Frank tips his glass back and empties it.   
"What make you think I'll help you?" Frank says, an honest question. He quite aware that he owes Micro nothing. He also knows him well enough to hear the smile in the pause.   
"Oh you're not going to do it for me." He says. "You're gonna do it for the same reason you always did." Frank feels a shiver down his spine. The memories are ploughed up. Reopened like a torn half-closed wound. He clenches his teeth on the imagined screams he can almost hear all over again. 

"Sir, are you alright? Would you like anything else from us today?" The waitress actually looks concerned, genuinely, not simply fulfilling a need to appear helpful. He forces his expression back to neutral.  
"Coffee." He grunts out. "Coffee ma'am, please." She smiles and nods and Frank takes a moment. He forces the memories back and replaces them with the sensation of flesh giving way to blood under his hands, of that brutal desperate place made of rage and adrenaline, of that sense of dread of coming back to himself afterwards to find that it wasn't just another nightmare. _I did that_ . Matt. Jessica. Claire, Karen, Foggy, even... _Worried_ about him, as if he's any sort of thing deserving of worry.  
“You don't know me as well as you think you do, David.” He says quietly. “My motivations have changed.”  
“People don't change, Frank.” Micro is still smiling. He leans across and drops a napkin onto Frank’s table. There's a phone number scrawled on it. “Call me when you're ready.”

He leaves before Frank has a chance to deny that he ever will be, to scoff at him. A woman asks if she can pet Cupcake and he manages, almost, to smile convincingly at her when he tells her to go ahead. He drinks his coffee, thinks of Matt and realises he knows what he needs to do. When he rises to leave though, something makes him pick up the slip of paper and tuck it into a back pocket. He’ll shred it, he tells himself, when he gets to base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since updates :O the rest is mostly written now anyway so back to somewhat of a schedule, kinda.


	11. Chapter 11

They're all sort of pacing about when Natasha Romanoff makes her appearance. Luke is back, Matt is in costume and trying his best to appear relaxed. Only Danny is sitting, perched on the arm of one of couches, eager to meet Clint's friend but not overly so. Frank is conspicuous in his absence. Jess can't bring herself to blame him.   
  
The Black Widow strolls in with Foggy and, to Jessica's delight, Clint. Foggy is completely at ease with her, and honestly she has the stature and gait of an easy kind of person. Looks though, are deceiving, and Jessica watches her carefully. She seems entirely like a PR woman or something, naturally friendly, petite, and harmless. Tricky.   
"Hey kids." She says, voice lower than Jess was expecting through the done hair and the immaculate jeans and jacket. "Nice place." She smiles and so far as Jessica can tell, it's real. "I hear you could use a consultant."   
  
Matt steps forward with his hand outstretched.   
"Welcome Ms Romanoff, would you like a coffee? Tea?" Natasha looks from his hand to his helmet and smiles.   
"Mr Murdock would you mind losing the cowl? I would much rather speak to you without horns on your head, please." Natasha says briskly, and just like that, Jessica can see the woman who has spent a lot of time in the company of Thor and Captain America. Matt is, for once, speechless, as Natasha continues to look around on her way to the couch. She sits neatly. Matt takes the helmet off and she smiles widely. There's something strangely girlish about it.   
If she’s honest, the top half of Matt’s face generally has that effect when his eyes aren't hidden by glasses. He looks like some kind of dopey baby animal. "So, who do we have here? Jessica Jones." She turns to her and Jess steps forward to shake her hand.   
"Hard going being the only woman, I can sympathise." Jess laughs and sits beside her. "The rest of you?" Natasha asks with a coy little smile, because Jess has no doubt she knows who they all are.   
"Cage. Luke." He sticks out a hand and she shakes it.   
"Any relation to Nicholas?" Her smile edges into smirk territory for just a moment. Luke blinks but is otherwise impassive.   
"Not that I know of."   
"I'm Danny." He sticks out a hand and Jess notes that he's definitely looking at her with a certain focussed interest. Oh boy. Well, this could be entertaining if nothing else. When they shake, he holds on for just a second longer than is strictly necessary.   
  
"So I hear you have a brainwashing problem."   
Natasha says smoothly, as if she has pointed out nothing more than a mild rodent infestation or something. Everyone turns to Matt except Danny, who still seems a bit hypnotised. Matt’s face is neutral as he shares the little he knows, and it is little. He can’t help but grimace in places, he can hardly remember the time spent below ground. Matt’s pretty good at hiding a lot of himself inside. As Foggy puts it, none of them are excellent at feeling their feelings. Jess watches as Matt’s usual self control just falls short of covering the damage and grits her teeth, wills him to get through it. When he’s finished he sits down on the arm of the couch a little quickly.

Natasha considers.  
“It sounds as if she’s susceptible to help.” She gives him a tight lipped smile. “But these things take time.” She leans forward. “Tell me more about these underground tunnels.”

*

When Frank appears in the base as if he hasn’t been spending a few days avoiding everybody (not necessarily a  _ bad _ thing, Matt supposes, considering) Matt tries his best to act as if he wasn’t concerned by his absence.   
"Matt." Frank sounds pressurised, voice tight with something he's trying to contain. Matt turns, doesn't reach. He's not sure Frank wants that yet. He's tense. Matt can feel it in his body, taut and hiding it, like he hasn't felt Frank get since before he began to feel at ease with the group. And just like that, Matt knows his concern was founded. Frank does as badly in isolation as he does. He smells of coffee and lack of sleep all Matt can think, irrationally, is that he wants to pull Frank close and hold him until he's ok. Frank doesn't feel like he would be possible to contain, wired with that nervous energy he gets before a fight.   
"Hey, Frank." Matt says because the silence was dragging.   
"Have to talk to you." Frank says. Matt swallows. Nods.

Matt gestures for Frank to follow and he pads behind him as Matt moves to the nearest available room; the office Karen has created for herself. Matt closes the door. It's barely shut before Frank speaks.  
“Don’t do this.” Frank says it quickly, as if he had to get it out before he lost the nerve.  
“Excuse me?” Matt blurts. “Don’t _do_ this? She needs help I can’t just stand by and-”  
“You don’t _owe_ her anything…” Frank seems seized up, as if he had rehearsed this but the words are out of his reach. Matt has something flaring in his stomach, something that gets him taking advantage of Frank’s silence.  
“If there’s any chance that she’s still in there I _have_ to try.”  
“Then let the others go, but not _you_ , Matt. Not as _bait_.”  
“What, you think I can’t do this? Is that it?” Matt hears his voice rising. The world is loud and close.  
“No Matt I don’t think you can!” Frank’s voice is rising now, Matt can feel the tension in his face, in his body. His senses have automatically honed in on him, like he’s a target again, an enemy. Frank is still talking, shouting, really, by now. “I think you make mistakes when she’s around, she makes you- makes you _compromise_ , Matt, you make bad calls-”  
“Don’t tell me what I’m capable of.” Matt half snarls, rounds on him. Frank stands his ground, shoulders squared.  
“I’ve _seen_ what you’re capable of.” Frank says darkly. “When she’s involved.” That’s a low blow, but damned if he's going to show that to Frank. Still, Matt mentally flails, losing ground even as he fights for something to hit back with. They've never talked about it. Frank is the only soul who knows what Matt did that night on the rooftop.  
“She’s not in her right mind-” Matt blurts out because forming a defense against the irony that is Frank Castle using Matt’s single attempt at murder against him is taking too long. Frank talks over him, won’t let him get the words out.  
“You’ll get _stupid_ and get yourself hurt, again, for _her_ and she hurt you Matt-”  
“This isn’t about me, is it, Frank, she hurt _you_ and you just want-”  
“This ain’t about that and you know it.” Frank moves and for a moment Matt thinks he’s going to hit him, but Frank only grabs his shoulders and gets in close. “What she did to you was, Matt it was- how can you put yourself on the line to give her another chance when she- Matt you _lost_ yourself, she _broke_ you, we all saw it.” Frank’s voice is _vicious_ and it cuts like his serrated combat knife. “You really want to save her after that?” Matt wrenches himself out of Frank’s grasp and fights the urge to punch him.  
“Elektra is still in there and I have to try. I do owe her that.”  
“She wants you _dead_ or worse-”  
“And you just want to protect me, huh? Of all people?” Matt’s voice rises unbidden, mocking. “This isn't some ownership bullshit here? Why is it you think, with everything you've done, you get to tell me who to save? You think you have the right after all the lives you've taken? After what you did to _me_?” Matt takes two rough steps towards Frank. “I don’t care if you do want to protect me, I don’t care if you’re jealous, you don’t get to tell me to do anything…”  
“After what _I-”_ Frank tries to scoff but his voice falters. _Good.  
_ “You _shot_ me, remember that? When we first met?” Matt asks, but it isn’t a question.  
“What are you-” Matt is still advancing on Frank who actually takes a step backwards.  
“I _lost_ myself? You beat her to it, Frank, didn’t you ever wonder how you managed to overpower me to get me up to that roof? _You?”_ He sneers but it's lost on Frank who is shifting and staring.  
“What-” He’s shaking his head and stammering but Matt can’t stop now, won’t.  
“That _gunshot to the head_ at _close range?_ It did something to my… I had __deaf spells I… you may not have intended to kill me, but you nearly took away my... Do you know what that, do you know how…” Matt’s losing the ability to put words together, he’s breathing too heavily, the memory made raw by more recent ones. Talking about it pulls an unsteadiness from him that he hadn’t anticipated, half thrown back into that rolling, gaping emptiness. Frank shakes his head.  
“No I-” Frank backs away, panting, head turning distractedly. “No…” His heart is fast, too fast, and all at once, Matt stops short and his breath catches.

Frank stumbles backwards and grabs the wall, drops his head into his hands and clutches at it desperately. Matt has a sudden memory of Frank backing away to get his back against a wall, that first time he took him home and he wants to scream as that memory seems to break to pieces in front of him.  
“Wait Frank I… I didn’t mean…”  
“You… How long were you…”  
“Frank it's not- don't-”  
“How long, Matt?”  
“I shouldn't have-”  
“You shouldn't have let me  _ near _ you, y-you…” Frank is spluttering and Matt’s own heart is thumping hard. “Matt I'm… I don't deserve to… can't begin to...”  
“Stop- stop- I just mean- Elektra- I have to try-” Matt tries to pull it back but it's too late.  
“Shouldn't be here.” Frank mutters. He backs to the door. Matt follows but Frank holds up a hand. “No, Matt I’m, sorry I… sorry.” His voice crumbles on the last word and he's moving away, leaving and Matt doesn't know how to stop him.

Matt stands blankly, so focussed on following Frank out of the base with his senses that he almost misses Foggy’s cautious approach from the corridor and into the room.  
“How much did you hear.” He says dully.  
“Enough.” Says Foggy, then doesn't say anything, just stands and looks and Matt can't bring himself to try to approximate his facial expression. He wants Foggy to ask him angrily how it feels when someone eavesdrops on something private, he wants someone to grab him or hit him or shake some sense into him.  _ Something _ . He can't move and he's gripping his chest with both hands and he's breathing hard.  
“Foggy…” He he says, hating the strain in his own voice, but Foggy has his arms around him before he can fall to pieces and his breath catches with the shock of it. It's worse, it's  _ worse _ than a punch to the face right now and Matt nearly breaks under the softness of it.  
“You should have told me.” It would be easier if he sounded angry. He's just sad. “You could have  _ died. _ ”  
“I couldn't- I  _ couldn't  _ talk about it Foggy I just, I couldn't…” He runs out of breath and struggles to draw in another. Foggy holds him at arm's length and sighs.  
“Shut up.” Foggy says, not unkindly, and makes Matt take his arm so that he can steer him into the kitchen and sit him down.

Matt just sits and breathes and Foggy gets him a glass of water. His hand only shakes a little when he takes it. Foggy sits close enough for Matt to feel his concerned expression as he stares.  
“Look, Matt-”  
“I know.” Matt takes a sip and puts the glass down. “I know Foggy. I shouldn’t have told him, it was…” He sighs frustratedly and drops his head into his hands.  
“I wasn’t going to say anything about that.” Foggy says gently. “That’s between you.”  
“I said it to hurt him.”  
“We all say things when we’re mad.”  
“This was pretty devastating, Fog.” Matt says with a wheeze of humourless laughter.  
“I know. But hey, he’s Frank Castle, you know?” Foggy smiles and sits back. “He’ll get back up. He always does.”  
“What were you going to say.” Matt says, doubting Foggy’s got that quite right. Frank may keep up a hefty front of stoicism but he is breakable. Matt’s seen it.  
“You need to take it slow.”  
“You're trying to put me off this too?” Matt can’t even bring himself to sound exasperated.  
“No, no. But you need to be patient with yourself. You're still… you need to take what happened to you seriously.”  
“I take it seriously.” Matt says, a bit breathless again because he still gets caught in his own heartbeat sometimes but he can hardly force himself to explain this to Foggy.  
“I know, but you need to keep your limits in mind, ok?” Foggy sits beside him and puts a hand lightly on his back. “I'm not going to try to stop you doing what you need to do.” Foggy says. “But you need to look after yourself.”

*

The plan is simple and Jess worries anyway. Worries because who knows what nasty shit Elektra could have up her sleeve and worries because Frank isn't on this one. They don't  _ need _ him for stuff like this, but Jess has begun to feel a whole lot safer with him covering her non-bulletproof ass. She has recently taken to wearing a light Kevlar vest under her clothes, insurance, these days she's more likely to get shot at than she used to. Matt seems ok, but the man is prone to hiding painful injuries from them for days at a time, so that's hardly a comfort.

They know the entrance to the tunnels, Elektra and her people know that, but they manage to buy the time to get inside by figuring out the sentry changes. Danny, Luke, Matt and Jessica slip down the ridiculous stone steps they dragged Matt up not all too long ago. The plan allowed for it, required it even, but Jessica can’t help but get a flicker of nervousness when they are confronted with an uncountable group of figures when they reach the tunnel system. 

There’s somewhat of a sizing up, Luke and Jessica pacing a little restlessly as Matt stands and twitches his head, getting a lot more information from the darkness than the other three.  
“Eight.”Matt tells them, then turns his head sharply. "Dan, that one." He says. Danny nods and  pursues the man Matt indicated, then is forced to focus on the fight that is starting up. She sidesteps ducks and immediately feels a whole lot better about the whole "fighting" thing when a blade slashes uselessly against her bullet proof torso. She laughs grimly and uses the man's momentum to turn him around and gets him around the neck. Thank you, Trish.   
  
Danny is no-where to be seen but the now three of them try to advance down the corridor as per the plan. Jess tries not to think too much about how, Clint and Natasha may have the other exit covered, but at some point it's going to become clear that they know about it as they move in that direction when they try to leave. That is, if Matt can get them to Elektra.   


Jess is out of breath already when they get to the first right turn in the tunnel. Glad though, of all that working out Trish had suggested and she had at the time scoffed at. They may be down here for some time.   
"Straight on." Matt says, and then yells.   
"Matt?" Jess shouts and elbows a ninja in the face. Something crunches before he flies backwards and Jess turns in time to see Matt grunting and holding his side, blood seeping from between his fingers.   
  
"Matt!" She can't help but sound utterly exasperated by this new development as she fights her way to his side. He's propped himself against a wall.   
"It's not deep it's not deep-" Matt gasps out and Jessica half growls in frustration because that is Classic Matt Bullshit that they do not have the time for.   
"This guys have some pretty great aim don't they?" She snaps. "Always in the same damn... Aren't you supposed to be stab-proof?"   
"It went into a seam. I'll have to get that uh, get that addressed." He won't let her get near enough to get a look at it but now there's pressure on it, it's not gushing. She gives up trying to check it out with a kind of frustrated growl and goes back to watching their backs. The men have vanished into the darkness. Head torches may look stupid, but they do work. Jessica resolves to not tell Clint this.

“We need to keep moving.” Luke mutters. Jess sees movement in the corner of her eye and unceremoniously yanks Matt to his feet.  
“We should be turning back.” She tells him, hauling him along.  
“Yeah well.” Something isn’t right about Matt’s voice. Jess swallows.  
“We can't turn back, could be a trap.” Luke says.  
“Stick to the plan.” Matt insists.

Matt keeps himself upright. Jessica knows they’re being followed. She motions to Luke and of course, he knows it too. Matt leads them down a few corridors and then, just when Jessica thinks she can count about four men following them (without directly looking to count them) Matt catches the wall with a mostly-muffled choking sound.  
“Matt.” Jess grabs his arm tiredly. “You really got to stop almost dying, you’re making me feel things like  _ worry _ and you know I don’t like to…” Matt groans and sinks to the floor. The ninjas are closing in. Jessica longs for a time when she didn’t have to think things like ‘the ninjas are closing in’. Luke stands there like a shield and Jess drops down next to Matt and tries to frown as efficiently as Claire.  
“Poisoned?” Matt shrugs  
“M-might have hit something… I d-don’t think this is flesh wound…” He says grudgingly..  
“What?” She grips his shoulder urgently. “Matt we have to get out of here…”  
“We can’t guarantee we can get him out alive, they know we’re here now…” Luke says, trying to keep his voice calm, as always. Jess grabs Matt’s wrist and feels for his pulse. She gasps. They sit like that for a long time. Then Jess blinks.  
“Wait, Matt, what about… you said you think it’s down here. The stone thing, the thing that brought Nobu back…” Matt shakes his head.  
“Jess no, no I can…” He tries to make his voice sound suddenly unconcerned but it doesn’t exactly work out. He slips further toward the ground.  Jess hauls him up.  
“Luke?”  
“Hey I don’t know, might just be crazy enough to work, we’re fighting undead ninjas.” Luke says, sounding half worried half exasperated.  
“Jess… I don’t…” Matt mumbles.  
“None of this matters if you’re dead Matt, I will not let you die for her.”

Jess of course has no trouble carrying Matt, and she and Luke keep a quick pace now they aren't being so careful. Luke almost takes Danny’s head off when he reappears.  
“How did you find us again?” Jess snaps at him exasperatedly.  
“Every man in this place is following you.” He shrugs. “I have the keys, Matt.”  
“Great.” Matt’s voice is faint. Jess increases her pace.  
“How much further?” She grits her teeth. “You’d better be taking us to a quick resurrection pitstop   
“‘N-not far…”  
“What happened?”

Luke briefs Danny in an undertone behind them as Jess drags Matt’s increasingly limp body along with her. There are more men behind them now, Jess spots them moving at the end of a corridor they pass. She breathes hard through her nose and gets ready, because when they hit there's going to be a hell of a fight and they are  _ grievously  _ outnumbered.

The tunnel abruptly opens out. They have to be a long way north by now. Closer to the north entrance than the south. Matt motions left and the corridor turns twice before coming to a dead end. They stand, staring as Danny uselessly attempts to use the keys to Elektra's chambers to open this more impressive looking door. He is on the point of using his power, when a voice snakes right at them out of the gloom.  


“I must have broken you for sure if you're letting a little scratch like that keep you down.” Matt pants uselessly, head turning, and then collapses. All about the dramatic timing. Jess rounds on Elektra, in plain sight, a wall of black clad people standing right behind her.  
“I thought the idea was  _ you _ killed him huh?” She spits. Elektra’s face is moving unnaturally, cycling messily between smug indifference and plain horror. She wrestles it back to indifference and gives Jess a look.  
“Get them.” She says without breaking eye contact.

Matt’s gasps gurgle a little on the way out and that's all Jess can hear as the fight really starts. She's aware they're being driven away from Matt but there's no way to stop it. Elektra moves to him smoothly. Kneels beside him, arranges herself comfortably. Jessica loses sight of them for a bit to fight for her life, but manages to shoulder them back into her sight in time to see Elektra slowly extending a knife towards Matt’s throat. His head is lolling backwards, hair ruffled helmet discarded to one side. His neck is exposed and the knife is coming down. Jess impatiently elbows a man trying to get her in some kind of choke hold. Elektra is leaning right over Matt, speaking to him softly enough that only he can hear, if he is conscious enough for that. The knife is millimetres from Matt’s flesh. Without warning, he moves.

Matt is fast, moving from his helpless position under her knife to behind her, flowing like water. Two clicks and she's in a pair of cuffs courtesy of Natasha and Matt is yanking her upright.  
“No- no you tricked me you  _ coward _ you-”  
“We knew we couldn't get you from your bed with everyone down here knowing where we were. Had to get you to come to us. Knew you wouldn't be able to resist it.” Matt grunts as he holds onto her even as she struggles furiously to get away.  
“You’ll never get out of here alive.” She snarls, spitting and furious. “You're  _ surrounded _ you don't have a chance-” but even as she speaks, an arrow whistles down the corridor and lodges in the wall beside her head. At the sound of whistling, Jess, Luke, Danny and Matt all drop, right before a sheet of concussive light flashes from the arrow, a horizontal blanket of energy that floors all but two men. Danny and Luke sort them out almost casually as Clint and Natasha jog into view.

“We have about two minutes to get to the exit before reinforcements arrive from the inner sanctum.” Natasha tells them.  
“How could you possibly know that?” Jessica frowns. Nat just smiles and shrugs.  
“You know, if you weren’t so tied up in little things like saving the world, you’d make one hell of a PI.” Jess sighs.  
Luke takes a couple of minutes to persuade Matt to let him carry Elektra. Matt seems a little blank and unsteady, as if he can't quite understand Luke’s words, but after a moment, he helps Luke arrange her comfortably in his arms and appears focussed enough once that’s done.

*

It  _ feels _ as if they've kidnapped someone. Everyone is doing their dumb camaraderie thing (except Matt who is doing his  _ stoic asshole _ thing that she is undoubtedly going to indulge any minute now) and it feels wrong even now that Matt is clean of fake blood. Clint is leading, maybe because he knows it's what the others need right now. Natasha pats Jessica on the arm and smiles at her thinly. Jess only meets her eyes briefly but it's enough for her to catch Nat’s understanding. Not that she  _ does _ , really. Jessica’s mind is full of Elektra, waking up before they got her into the cell they had prepared for her at base, shrieking and fighting and sobbing as it all broke down, Hope, desperately clawing her way back to that hotel bed. It was the right thing. At least now she can be sure of that.  
“She's going to be ok.” Natasha says.  
“I've seen worse.” Jess mutters gruffly.  
“I don’t doubt it. Just take care of yourself, ok?” Nat pats her arm and Jess opens her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t expecting anything like that out of Natasha and it shocks the words out of her for long enough to allow Natasha to smoothly move back to the others and slot herself right into the conversation as if she had been a part of it from the beginning. Jess watches her blankly for a moment. She settles thoughtfully on the arm of the couch and lets herself relax a bit.

Clint sidles up to Jess and slaps her on the arm in greeting.   
"Hey Jess, haven’t had a chance to catch up, you been good?"   
"Not too bad, how's exile?"   
"Hasn't slowed me down yet. Where's Frank? We haven't caught up in a while." Clint's tone is casual but Jess is suddenly suspicious.   
"Haven't seen so much of him recently, why?" She tries to sound just as offhand but she can't help but narrow her eyes just a bit. Clint gives her a tiny look. She glances at the others who all appear to be too intent on sucking up to Natasha to notice. But, you never knew with Matt.   
"Oh, you know." Clint says. "I worry about him sometimes."   
"Yeah he can be, uh, worrisome."   
"Anything happen recently that might set him... Off balance?" She sits up straighter, willing her heart rate down because this is certainly not something she wants Matt tuning into. Not until she's sure.  
“Maybe. Why?”  
“I've been hearing some things.” Clint says lightly. “Think maybe you should check up on him, yeah?” She nods and smiles.  
“Uh huh. Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Clint. I uh, I will.” He smiles at her, lips pressed together.  
“Could be nothing. The whole world knows his MO.”  
“Pretty sure it’s something.” She tells him. Clint nods.  
“Alright. Let me know if you need me for anything, ok?”


	12. Chapter 12

“Jess.” Foggy says it covertly because he's not great at subtlety. Matt isn't due for another hour though, so they're safe for now. She knows exactly what has Foggy shuffling his feet and nervous to speak to her.  
“Have you seen…”  
“Frank.” She says.  
“Yeah. Frank.”  
“I talked to him.” She says shortly and shoves a stack of plates into the cupboard with more force than is probably necessary. Foggy winces.  
“That good, huh?” He says gingerly. Jess sighs and stops putting things away, lets her shoulders drop and turns to look at Foggy. He looks as worried as she feels, only without all the frustration that’s making her want to smash the cereal bowls that are stacked beside her right hand.  
“He's totally snapped shut, it's like square one. He's goddamn dead behind the eyes.” She mutters poisonously and sees Foggy fidget uncomfortably in the corner of her eye.  
“So you didn't get  _ anywhere?” _ Foggy sounds so desperate that she has to stop, grip the counter and lean her head towards it for a second to gain a bit of composure.  
“He's working with someone else, wouldn't say who, he's keeping his distance and being more careful but it's still a lot of murder and “#punisherlives” is picking up on Twitter again.” She shakes her head. “It's not good and he won't talk to me.” She says darkly.  
“We have to tell Matt.”  
“Matt has enough to deal with right now.”  
“No- well yeah- but before we got Elektra, they had a fight…”

Foggy explains as briefly as possible and Jess closes her eyes hopelessly. She rocks towards the counter and grits her teeth as he finishes speaking.  
“Oh god.” She mutters when he's finished. “We do have to tell Matt.”  
“No you don't.” Both of them turn to see him walking towards them. It's very dramatic.  
“You really are one for timing aren't you.” Jess snaps.  
“I know what he's doing.” Matt says. “I have yet to find where he's holed up. He's covering his tracks better than he used to.”  
“He has help.”  
“Yeah.” Matt sounds tired. “I was hoping he'd come to me. Or one of us.” He sighs. “I can't believe he'd do this. To all of us. We’re all in danger if he gets caught, there's been rumours he's with us for a while…” He shoves a hand through his hair.  
“He’ll come back.” Jess says. She sounds a lot more certain than she feels.  
“Do we want him to?” Matt croaks a laugh.  
“Matt…”  
“Look I’m… I don't know what to do about this yet.” He says a little apologetically. “I don’t know what to think.”

*

_ “Hey Foggy.” _ It’s Frank’s voice, on the line, not Matt on his new burner phone like he figured when he picked up. Foggy thinks it's fear that flares violently in his stomach at first, but then realises it’s mostly worry and a bit of relief.  
“Hey.” Foggy says a little helplessly. He can’t help but feel his survival instincts may be a bit impaired these days, if nothing else.  
_ “I uh, can you meet me, I wanna talk. Jus’... talk. Please.” _ His voice is flat but strained and it sounds a struggle to get the words out.  
“Uh, yeah I... sure.” Foggy nods and swallows. “Usual place?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I can be there in an hour.” Foggy says, mentally cursing Matt Murdock but not too hard. Frank grunts some kind of vague sound of understanding, gruff as always, and hangs up. Foggy stares into space and then sighs. Worst client  _ ever _ .

*

"Thanks for comin' man." Frank looks  _ terrible _ . He's lost weight, his face is pale and there are big dark patches under his eyes, or Foggy thinks so. He's wearing a hoodie over a baseball cap, but Foggy can see recent bruising on one side of his jaw and at least one eye. He's hunched and fidgeting and looks like a kicked dog. Foggy's heart actually pangs. Frank is presumably killing again, like actively, but his pain still hurts to look at.  _ Christ _ what has happened to his life? He internally curses Matt again and slides into the booth to sit opposite him.

Frank's breathing is tight and he won't look up from his coffee. He's drinking coffee again. Foggy swallows. Frank takes a breath and Foggy gets ready for him to explain why he called him here, but he just raises a hand as a waitress passes.   
"Hey can I get a coffee for my friend here?" He asks with an uncharacteristically weak show of charm. Foggy grits his teeth and waits for her to leave to fetch him a mug.   
"Frank." He says when she's moved away. "What happened to you?" Frank snorts unconvincingly and manages to crack a bit of a smile. His eyes flick briefly to Foggy's.   
"Felt like I needed to talk to my lawyer." He says, trying to do that cocky head tilt Foggy has become strangely fond of and missing to the degree that he has to drop his head and turn it away.   
"Cut the crap, Castle." Foggy sighs, not unkindly. "Do you want my help or what?" Frank's eyes flick to his again. They narrow. For a moment Foggy thinks he's glaring, but then he grimaces and drops his head.   
"Yeah. Yeah." He shakes his head and sniffs and waits for 'Tina' to fill Foggy's cup. He smiles and thanks her and turns back to Frank.   
"This about... what happened with Matt?" Foggy says. Frank doesn't move for a moment, but then he shuts his eyes and nods once. "Right." Says Foggy, trying his best not to remember the horror, visualise Matt with blood streaked down one side of his face, not waking up. "You've changed, Frank, you were... you're doing better now." Frank doesn't say anything just makes a little grunt of disagreement and shakes his head, which Foggy doesn't blame him for because it sounded crap, even to him.   
  
"He misses you." Foggy tries to catch Frank's eye but he isn't having it. "He does. Come back, man. It doesn't matter what you're doing." Frank's head comes up again at that and he looks like he's trying his best to glare but his face is bunched up.   
"What you think this is like a relapse? Like I'll just swing back on track if you just reach out like that?" The lemon face is on and he's tilting his head back.   
"Was hoping so, yeah." Foggy says gently. Frank just turns his head from side to side with a tight grimace.   
"Uh huh. Well it ain't, ok. I’ve been... Lying. To myself. I can't pretend I still get to be me." And he's doing the stubborn expression Foggy tried not to get thrown off by back in court and Foggy wants to just stand up and leave. He almost does, but then a suspicion flickers in the back of his mind. He looks at him, really looks. Leans forward to see the way he's restlessly shifting in his seat, clenching and unclenching his jaw, eyes flicking around the room like he can't keep them still.   
"Frank..." He says slowly. "Are you trying to block it out?"   
"Block what." He snaps tightly, watching the entrance as if something very important is happening over there all of a sudden. Foggy leans forward.    
"Is that what this is?"   
"What."   
"Whatever you've been doing." Foggy says. "Whatever's got you too ashamed to look Matt in the face."   
"I ain't."   
"Why are you talking to me instead of him?" Foggy asks calmly. Frank slaps his hand down on the table.   
"Because-" he says it too loudly then looks around and glares down at the table top. "I'm no good for him." He says, voice tight and miserable. He looks up, eyes heavy with humiliation. He drops his head, like Foggy’s eyes shot him down, grits his teeth and spits the words out like broken teeth. "This is all I can be now."   
"You're more, man. We think so. Matt thinks so."   
"It was all just... make believe. "   
"Looked pretty real to me." Foggy shrugs.   
"You're not getting it." Frank's voice has gone flat and empty. "I can't stop my heart from going nuts for no reason. Part of me is always back in that park. I can't... I'm missing stuff." He grips his head in his hands. I got a bunch of big holes up here an' God knows what I lost when they switched me off."   
"So what?"   
"So what?" Frank wheezes out a humourless bolt of a laugh. "So it doesn't fucking  _ stop _ ."   
"Running away won't help."   
"No. But if I'm doing somethin' it... I can use it." Frank says, voice going quiet but not soft, just hollow.

"You seemed better." Foggy says gently. "Before."   
"An' then I wasn't." He snaps, looks Foggy in the eyes. They're full of a kind of desperation that Foggy doesn't know how to ease. "It never left, not really, and it all got too much again." He sounds so hopeless and defeated, Foggy is at a loss for a moment. It's not excuses, not exactly, Frank's just giving Foggy the basic facts as he understands them, and that is the worst part, because Frank believes every word. No, that can't be right, or he wouldn't have called. Some part of him has to want to be pulled back.   
"What am I doing here?" Foggy says calmly. Frank blinks at him.   
"I... I gotta say goodbye. I can't... I can't stay if I'm just gonna fuck it all up for him I can't do it. He's better off without me. I can't hurt him again." Frank's agitated, breathing hard now, barely keeping his voice under control.   
"Hey- hey Frank." Foggy says, suddenly urgent, tries to keep his own voice calm and level but Frank is slipping away. "Listen to me, you are in control, isn't that what you've always said?" Foggy knows it's a risk. Frank snorts humorlessly.   
"What that's supposed to make me feel better, remindin' me I made the decision to shoot my... to shoot Matt..." His voice actually wobbles. Foggy clenches his teeth for a second.   
"Yeah, and you can make the decision to hold it together for him now." Something in Frank's posture breaks, sudden and distinctive. Foggy gets the sense he's won. "I think you owe it to him to find out what he wants, right?" Foggy says gently, because he's all about pushing his luck.

Frank doesn't move for seconds that stretch to over a minute and then he shakes himself visibly and pulls on a kind of twitching forced excuse for a smile before he looks up at Foggy. His eyes are still lost, more than lost, it's deeper than that, but maybe there's something a bit like hope there now too.  
“He uh, he really wants to see me?” Frank says. Foggy laughs a little nervously.  
“Trust me man, I've never seen him this hung up on anyone.” He frowns. “Seriously though, you are good for him. He… I've never seen him let anyone look after him. Not like he lets you.” Frank’s face has softened.  
“I don't deserve him.” Frank says, very quietly, as if to himself. Foggy just shrugs and smiles wryly.  
“It's not about deserving.”

*

“Hey.” Matt says. Elektra is curled in the corner, he can hear her through the wall. He sits with his back against it, knows she can’t see it, but they are back to back. He settles himself more comfortably against the old, cold tiles. If he’s honest, he needs a wall between them. She’s silent for a long time, hunched in on herself and unnaturally still and cold. Matt tries not to connect too much to the posture, trapped and small and wedged into the corner of the room they converted into a cell to hold her. He won’t stand over her as she did.

Her hair is falling in her face. After a while she grimaces. Her head tips forward, more hair falling into her eyes and irritating them. She blinks it away reflexively, her most human mannerism so far.  
“Matthew.” She breathes it out in one long sigh, full of irritation and hurt and something else, something quieter. “Have you come to gloat? You captured me well with your trickery. I should have known.” She shifts and lets her head fall back against the wall. He thinks she’s closed her eyes but he can’t be sure. “You had that curly haired one pose as one of my boys, didn’t you.”  
“Danny. Yes. It was just a stage trick.”  
“Not your style. I would half expect you to take a real wound just to make it more convincing.”  
“We had help.” Matt shrugs. “It wasn’t my plan.”  
“And yet you played your part rather well.”

She sits in silence for a little longer.  
“I didn’t see Frank down there. Was he with the one who shot that arrow? Flashy. Not so much  _ his _ style I imagine.” Matt clenches his jaw. Elektra. Always under his skin, right from the beginning, she’s always had every one of his buttons under her fingertips.  
“He wasn’t with us this time.”  
“Oh? He is still  _ alive _ , isn’t he?” She says innocently. Her tone would imply a simple friendly conversation, were it not edged with a shiver of pain, if he couldn’t sense her defensive body language.  
“Yes. He’s fine.”  
“He’s like me, isn’t he? He kills.”  
“Not anymore.”  
“Don’t lie to me, Matthew. Not now.” He laughs at her, then.  
“What? Do I owe you that?” He shakes his head. “Why shouldn’t I?”  
“I am at your mercy.”  
“And when I was at your’s?” He can’t help but let the darkness slip into his voice. “When you didn’t kill me, was that mercy?”  
“What are you…”  
“No, no you do not get to forget.” He half snarls the words. “You couldn’t kill me. Why not, Elektra?” Silence. Matt forces his breathing to slow.

It’s long enough before she speaks again for him to begin to suspect that she is refusing to. Eventually, before he decides to leave her there for now, she lets out another long sigh.  
“I couldn’t kill you, Matthew. I could never kill you.” Her voice is soft but it seems to Matt that there is still something wrong with it. Something twisted and incomprehensible. Then again, it could just be the swirling tension in his stomach at her proximity.  
“Do you know what you did?” He can’t make himself sound angry. He doesn’t have the strength.  
“Matthew…”  
“Tell me, Elektra. I have to know how much of you is in control.”  
“That isn’t how it works.” She mumbles.  
“Oh? Then how  _ does _ it work, Elektra? You’re still in control, all of you, with your missing memories and your inconsistencies and you silent heart?” She roars then, half anger half anguish, sudden, wild and unexpected. As she screams she moves with inhuman speed it seems to Matt, turns around to face him through the wall, snarling at him, teeth bared. Matt barely manages to keep himself from gasping, body involuntarily jerking away from her. He lurches backwards across the corridor and presses up against the opposite wall.  __ There’s a wall, solid concrete, she can’t get to you, she can’t get-  
“When you were at my mercy?” She hisses, terribly cold. Matt tries not to flinch. “I walked into that room to find you weak and  _ weeping _ and  __ broken and I put my blade against your throat and you said-” She cuts herself off with a snarl that’s hiding something. “I though you were dead already I didn’t think there was any point...” She covers unconvincingly.  
“What did I say?” Matt says. “What did I say to you?”

Silence again. No, not silence. The walls reverberate with the movement of his shirt against the tiles. His fingernails against the floor kick up little cascades of sound with each tap. He can hear Trish laughing in the kitchen. Elektra doesn’t speak for a long time, and Matt is glad of it because he can take a moment to just listen and know that he can hear  _ something _ other than himself.  
“You said…” Her voice is different, quieter, unsure. “You were talking to  _ him _ . As if he could hear you. You told him you loved him.” Her voice wavers on the word. Matt feels like the tremor in it, shaky and indistinct.  
“I have to go.” He tries to make his voice hard, but he can’t quite make it happen. He shoves himself to his feet.  
“Wait, Matthew.” She says and he stops. “I am sorry.” She says softly. Matt can’t think of anything to say to that, so he only walks away.

*

Frank is in plain clothes when he gets back to his one room apartment-come-armoury one night after casing a place. He stands in the elevator and tries not to look at himself in the mirror. The hoodie gets him thinking of Matt. A lot of things do. He yanks the hood down and makes himself see his hair, cropped close on the sides and only a little longer on top. Not long enough for Matt’s to ball up in his fists.

They gave up too much. He thought about what Foggy said, hours, sitting in the dark with Cupcake’s head resting on his lap, concerned and whining as he went from hoping- maybe,  _ maybe _ they could make it work if that was what Matt wanted, if Foggy was right- until the dread in his stomach grew too consuming for there to be any other thought in his mind but an image of Matt, terrified and deaf and lost. They had shared a beautiful thing, but who is Frank to expect he can have anything beautiful without damaging it in the end. It's over, it has to be, for Matt’s sake and for the sake of the job now. No attachments. No distractions. Frank can get back to doing what is necessary to protect the people who need that from him more than he needs a life of his own. It's a dirty job. He was stupid and naive to think he would ever be able to wash his hands clean enough to safely handle softness or comfort. To think he could ever be worth enough for anything but his duty.

The apartment is empty without Cupcake. The prospect of going back to a cold and dark room again is hollowing. He couldn't meet Jessica’s eye when he took him round to her place, told her he was going out of town for a couple of days. To her credit she took the dog and managed not to shout at the stony facade he'd successfully made himself hide behind. It's easy to close off. Familiar. Years of service and whatever that day in the park did to his heart makes it feel natural. It's easier this way. Find a rhythm. Do the job. Put everything else aside.

He unlocks the door and sees a figure standing across the room. Just for a moment, the world turns into a battlefield. Then his eyes adjust to the lack of light and he can make out familiar ruffled hair, Matt’s distinctive silhouette. His helmet is in one hand as he turns his head, standing with his back to the door, exploring Frank’s stark insides lined with gunmetal and grease. He made the effort to track him down. Frank doesn't know how to react until Matt speaks, then it's just instinct.

"This is it hmm? This is what you've been doing?" Matt doesn't even attempt to keep the anger out of his voice.  
"What I wanna do ain't…”   
"What? My business?" Matt's laugh is a humourless wheeze of sound. He turns to face Frank and his frown is heavy enough to split his forehead down the middle, his eyes are red.   
"You wanted me in your life!" Frank can't keep his volume from rising, frustration and desperation all caught up in the stupid, impulsive things coming out of his mouth.  
"I will not watch you destroy whatever humanity you have left." Matt’s words appear to burst out of him. Frank actually feels himself stagger backwards a step. Matt's face drops when he realises what he said, when he senses what it does. Frank can't draw breath. Everything seems to spin just a little.   
"So we're back here." He manages to sound cold, or he thinks so anyway from what he can hear past the blood pounding in his ears.   
"No, no we're not back anywhere Frank, I'm not talking about the past, this is the future."   
"You thought there was a future?" Frank's breathlessness is loud and clear when he raises the volume of his voice. He can't seem to stand still. Still feels winded and dizzy. "I'm sorry you thought I was more than this." He spits the words like acid. Each one seems to shred his lips on the way out.   
"You are, Frank, you always have been." Matt's earnest and taking a step towards him but Frank turns his body away. Can't stop shaking his head. His hands are trembling so he squeezes them into fists. "If you do this you push me away because I will not watch you kill yourself Frank." Matt's voice breaks.   
"You can't save me Matt..." Frank says but he can't make himself sound as sure as he feels.   
"Not if you won't let me." Matt takes another step and Frank fights the urge to back away from him. Stiffly stands his ground.   
"What do I have to do to convince you this is just what I am?" Frank lets his voice rise with the frustration.   
"Learn to lie to me." Matt snarls.   
"She's back now." Frank blurts and feels the words hit Matt like a physical blow. He freezes.   
"What's that supposed to mean?" He demands, half shock half anger.   
"She's back and I'm in the way." Silence. Matt just gasps softly, and the lump in Frank's throat is burning. He didn't know it himself until it burst out of him like that fucking alien from that movie Maria had loved so much, a rogue thought, another piece of twisted shrapnel festering under his skin that he had been ignoring.

Several seconds, and all Frank can hear is his own dubiously steady pounding heart and Matt's shaky breaths.   
"That's why you've been... You think I..." Matt sounds lost. Frank clenches his jaw, fully turns away. He can't hide from Matt at the best of times and now, when he's so twisted up and full of things he has actively refused to process, he's hardly keeping it together. He never did have much in the way of defences when it came to Matt.

"Frank. You listen to me." Matt's voice is hard but there's a desperate edge to it. "This is the truth, I am not just saying it because I want you to stop, do you trust me not to lie to you?" Matt steps towards him, grabs his shoulder, a tight, desperate grip. Frank can't make himself turn his head. "This is... This is important." Matt's voice has a tremor to it now. Frank forces himself to look at him. Feels sick. Matt is flushed and his eyes are wet now. "Frank, please."   
"Yeah. Yeah." Frank feels a hundred miles away from his own body, feels like he should pull away, preserve Matt from soiling himself with his contact.   
"I have never loved anyone like this." His voice is tight, his breaths are coming too fast. "Never, Frank." It's like a kick to the ribs. He does recoil back again but Matt holds on. He drops his head, everything has retracted, dull and quiet like he's in the middle of a fire fight. Matt seizes his other arm, grips him tightly enough to bruise. His instincts, every goddamn stupid defense mechanism he's rigged down to his bones wants him to tilt back his head, drag on a grimace, throw bitter laughter in Matt’s face for this raw declaration that feels like a IED that’s taken off half his skin. But he can't. He can't hurt Matt like that. He forces down the compulsion, sick to his stomach that he would even consider it.

"M'not who you think I am." Frank shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw. "I can't be that man, Matt, even for you."   
"Stop it, stop trying to give up, you know it doesn't work and you know I won't give up on you, Frank, you have to stop trying to make me." Frank searches for the words, finds them and forces them out one by one. Matt has to understand. He has to know.  
"M'not good for you I'm not good for anyone..." He whispers it because he can't get a breath in for more than that.

Matt jolts suddenly, sobs, wraps Frank in a sudden, tight grip and presses his head against his shoulder. Something inside Frank twists and thrashes like a dying parasite. Desperate to throw Matt off him, desperate to let himself collapse into his solid warmth, ripped in two directions.  
"No Frank no, you believe that you really believe that..." Matt runs out of air, holds him tightly and Frank struggles to breathe. Matt should not be touching him. It's his reluctance to get into Matt’s bed but it's thick and heavy and all consuming. "Frank  _ please _ you're not disposable you're not nothing you have people who care about you, you are good for me, you don't deserve to  _ die _ ..."

The pressure breaks and the floor rocks. Matt steadies him and steers him to his bunk, hand pressed against his chest. It hurts, but that hardly registers under the shame of it. Matt still helping him after everything he's done. Matt is speaking to him but he can't force himself to focus on the words. Matt’s proximity is wrong, he's too close and he shouldn't have to compromise and Frank’s very nature forces that from him.

But then Matt settles. He sits quietly, hand running a warm, slow circle on Frank’s back, and Frank feels his body slow. Foggy’s words play in his head again, for the thousandth time, but it's the first time they hit home, really sink in. If it’s what Matt wants… It's as if a spell is broken, or lifted slightly, at least. Everything is easier to manage. He won't hurt Matt, he won't, couldn't if he wanted to, and Matt’s strong enough not to be damaged by association. Not just here, just now. It doesn't have to be a compromise.  
“You haven’t been eating properly.” Matt says softly. Frank shuts his eyes and lets his body sag.  
“Didn't really notice.”  
“No. I know.” His voice is gentle. “Look, you need a proper meal and sleep.” Matt sits up a little. “And I want you to come to my apartment and let me take care of you, ok?”  
“Can't let you.” Frank says, shakes his head bitterly. “Gotta talk to my contact. I can't make you compromise. I'll shake him off.”  
“You don't have to choose.” Matt says softly. “I know what I said, but right now I just want to help.”  
“I do.” Frank says heavily. “I do have to choose.”

Matt kisses his forehead before he leaves, holding head between his hands.  
“It won't take long.” Frank says. “Have something I gotta return, give it back, tell him I'm done with him.”  
“Is he going to be happy about that?” Matt says.  
“Doesn't matter. Is how it is.” Frank shrugs.  
“Alright. I'll be at my place.”

*

Frank drops in at his favourite diner on the way to his meet with Microchip. But having a favourite diner is a lot like routine. It's not his first mistake by a long shot, but it's a big one.

It's the sort of situation Frank would have been consistently prepared for when he worked alone. Or not, seeing as how his very presence in the Defenders was partly caused by this sort of slip-up. An underestimation of the enemy’s strengths, an overestimation of his own. This time, it's too much trust in Microchip’s capabilities. He doesn't catch his tail until he's splashed with takeout coffee as a man grabs him and yanks him into an alleyway. He's jumpy enough to react quickly enough to get an elbow into his stomach and dodge out of the way… in time to get tackled from behind by another man. This guy is bigger, faster, yanks his arms behind his back with more force than Frank can shake when he tries.

Maybe he would have broken free if it was just  _ two _ men jumping him, but it's several, as it turns out. He has time to see the black van, time to realise who they are through the adrenalised fog. Microchip had been on the hunt for a certain piece of hardware, he'd outsourced to a private group he'd used before in Frank’s absence, just to get the search over more quickly. Having it out there was dangerous. Frank had found it first, maybe some of Jess’s particular skill set had rubbed off, maybe he got lucky, at the time he hadn't thought any more of it.  
  
He's almost numb by the time they bundle him into the van, hands taped, dizzy from a few too many blows to the head. Honestly it's a wonder there's anything left up there. He didn't give up, it's not in his bones to stop fighting, it's unavoidable, a compulsion, but the strategic part of him figured out the inevitability of what was going to happen quickly enough. He wasn't prepared and he was hugely outnumbered. They blindfold him, though the van has no windows, presumably just for the sake of intimidation and he tells them exactly how he feels about  _ that _ which earns him a boot to the head and a gag. After that, the journey is a painful, heart-pounding blur, and all he can think is  _ Matt, God, Matt will never know. _


	13. Chapter 13

 

Frank doesn't show. Matt’s stomach gets colder and colder as the hours tick past. He tries to keep the anger back, but it steadily builds until he doesn't know what to do with himself. He’s exhausted but too angry to sleep, he lied, he  _ lied  _ or changed his mind or… It's too late to call Foggy and he doesn't know if it will help anyway. He can't get his head straight. Just when he's debating between having a drink and attempting to sleep, or getting the armour on and trying to work it out on the first lowlife he can reach, his phone buzzes.

“Frank.” It says and his stomach burns. “Frank. Frank. Frank. Fr-” He answers.  
“Hello?”  
“Is this uh, Red?” The voice on the end of the line is snickering, male, and not a bit Frank. Matt’s stomach drops.  
“Who is this.” Matt says, keeps his voice low. The Devil-voice, as Jess calls it.  
“You don't need to worry about who I  _ am _ you wanna worry about what I want.” Matt doesn't speak, just waits and tries to stay calm. “Our client made a mistake, see?” The man on the end of the line chuckles. He takes his time, knows he has Matt’s attention. How did he have Frank’s phone? Unless…  
“He let slip that his man had the tech we were looking for. He wasn't to know we knew who his man was, or that we had an interest in the hardware he'd hired us to track down.” He says with the attitude of someone who believes they are being exceptionally fair.  
“We don't know where he's keeping it, but I'm hoping you do, mystery stranger with a long call history to this phone.” Matt’s heart is hammering in his ears.  
“What have you done to him.” He tries to keep his voice level but it's a struggle.  
“What’s ‘Red’ like a pet name? Figured there'd be a lady friend at the other end of the line not gonna lie.”  
“What have you done.”  
“Oh he's fine. Well. Alive. You want him to stay that way, you just get us what we want.” There's a pause and a rustle, muffled cursing and panting that gets louder as the phone moves closer. The phone mic quality can't pick up heartbeat but Matt can tell by the breathing that it's Frank. Nobody else has a nose that sounds quite like that. It's broken again by the sound of it.  
“Hey, Red.” He says tightly. “Got stupid. Used my fingerprint for my phone. Didn't think that one through.” He croaks out a laugh. “Used the same diner too many times. You were right.”  
“Are you ok? What did they- where are you?”  
“M’fine. Still blindfolded dunno where.”  
“I take it they can't have what they want?” He lets himself smile a bit and Frank laughs again.  
“Nice try. Don't negotiate this is my fuckup alright let me sort out my own mess.”  
“Nice try.” Matt says back and Frank sighs. Clearly stressed despite what he says, though you'd have to know him.  
“Listen. I am not worth endangering you or anyone else over, you hear me?” Frank raises his voice tensely and it’s Matt’s turn to sigh.  
“Don't be stupid.” Matt says softly. “Just hold out, ok.”  
“That got a bit teary back there, do you need a moment?” Matt can just about hear Frank shouting angrily in the background. It doesn't sound like pain, he just wants the phone back.  
“Just tell me where and when. I'll get what you need.”  
“Sure you don't need me to convince you we’re serious.”  
“You abducted my friend what more am I supposed to need. Where and when.”

*

Natasha and Elektra are sitting on the couch together when Matt arrives in the base. The others are on their way, but he hadn’t been expecting Natasha. Elektra laughs sharply at something Natasha said before he comes to within regular human hearing range, and then sight.  
“Nobody else here yet?” He says tightly, hardly looking at Elektra. They have hardly spoken since she passed Natasha’s evaluation barely over a day ago.  
“Nobody has been in for a while, is something wrong, Matthew?” She seems concerned. He can’t trust her. It will take time, he knows that, but Frank doesn’t have time.  
“I need your help.” He says, allows his face to be as desperate as he feels. Elektra smiles and Matt is so afraid for Frank that the sight doesn't chill him.  
“What can I do?” She says.

*

"L-lookin' good, Red." Red.  _ Red _ . And he's speaking through bloodied teeth, Matt can smell it. His arms are bound behind his back and it's constricting his lungs and... Broken ribs, he can only guess from the way Frank's breath catches and shudders. Luke's teeth are clenched, he holds back a sympathetic groan, Jess is cursing under her breath, Danny may have growled. Frank must look as bad as he sounds, or... No, no no... His heartbeat isn't... It's not... He turns his head to get a better focus on it and feels Frank stagger just a little, maybe because of the way his captors are moving a bit as they restrain him, maybe not. It's off, it's shaky and unsteady and... It's just, just slightly irregular. Matt clenches his fists, doesn't have to try to focus on Frank's stammering heartbeat, on his painful, slightly gurgling breaths, both are the loudest thing in the city.   
"He's alive Matt, we're getting him home safe ok?" Luke says softly. Matt blinks and forces his breaths to slow and quiet into something more dignified because every ounce of pokerface has slipped.   
  
"It in that bag?" One of the men grunts. Matt's scrambling mentally to find the plan. Something... Something to do with Elektra? Looks for her but the city is dissolving into chaos around him. God no not now keep it together concentrate.   
"We brought you the remaining hardware, yeah." Luke's heart is the steadiest. Matt leans on that for a couple of seconds, forces his senses to reach about. Finds her choking out a sniper. He pays attention to that until she releases him and Matt can hear his unconscious breathing, then he coughs once. No amount of thermal imaging goggles will work on whatever Elektra is now. Natasha’s intel told them more than was necessary to take this particular group of mercs down without trouble.   
"Show us." One of them jerks Frank a little hard and he stubbornly fights to stay on his feet. There's blood dribbling down his cheek from somewhere around his hairline. There's only a couple of days worth of stubble there. No beard. He shaved before... Before his meeting with his associate, which can only mean… he was planning to go straight to Matt's apartment. He was coming. Matt's gloves creak under increasingly tight fists.   
  
"I hope you got a plan because they can't have what was at my place." Frank whispers, barely makes a sound. Matt nods. Frank's mouth twitches up one side and he nods. He seems to sag slightly with relief. Just briefly, Frank's body betrays his exhaustion, but then he's fighting again almost at once, back straight and military as if his heart isn't dancing and skipping.   
  
Jess and Danny unzip the bag, lean it forward.   
"See? Real actual guns." Jess says brightly. "Now let's do the swap."   
"One of you walks over with the bag." The apparently leader says. Luke automatically steps to take it, but someone holds up a gun, points it at the group.   
"No, you." It takes Matt several seconds to realise he's pointing at him, so caught up in standing sentry, focussed on every minute change in Frank's vital patterns. Could be worse. At least his suit is partly bulletproof, anyway. He nods for the benefit of the others and takes the bag out of Jess's hand. Frank mumbles a curse, under his breath, desperate with worry. Matt feels him tense up even further, muscles shaking almost imperceptibly with exhaustion. He shifts restlessly. His heart sounds worse. Matt tries a smile to reassure him.

Matt stands and waits for them to release Frank, own heart loud in his ears, he feels like his breathing must be loud enough to cause some kind of damage, at the idea of Frank having to walk out on his own, unsupported, in this invisible state of weakness.   
"Not tryin' anything funny?" One of the men calls out. Frank yanks himself a little in the arms of his captors with impatience, starts to tell them exactly what he thinks of their hesitance to start the exchange. Which causes a great deal of muttering and one of the less fortunate but bigger of them to be elected to escort him. The man presses a taser against the back of Frank's neck. He reflexively twitches away from the contact but the man holds him against it.  
“6, come in.” One of the men has a radio. Static. “6, I said come in.” Still nothing. He sighs and shakes his radio. “Damn equipment on the blink again.”

Twelve steps, Matt is counting. The man with the radio tries another sentry and then grabs his buddy’s radio with impatience.  
“Something is wrong, I can't get the sentries.” He says it too quietly for the others to hear. Matt opens his mouth to call some warning back to them, but before he can think of anything to say, everything moves too quickly.  
“They’re planning something take him out.” The man says into the radio, and it crackles out of the one hooked to the belt of the man holding Frank.

Frank's captor has a freshly broken nose, Matt can sense now, which is probably the reason for the ferocity of what happens next. The man produces a gun and has it half raised towards Matt. Frank takes the opportunity to attempt to headbutt him before Matt can even react. He dodges but it opens him up enough for Frank to jerk and twist the gun between his bound arm and side and wrench it from his grasp. Matt goes to run toward them but a bullet ricochets off the concrete in front of him and he has to stop short. The man has the taser back in his hand, grabs Frank around the body and squeezes it.   
  
Matt yells and starts to run, bullets be damned. Frank roars, jerks away but the man is bigger than he is and unyielding. Frank continues to struggle, fights the limb-jerking convulsions the electricity brings, but then something changes. His heart splutters. His cry cuts off abruptly into a coughing choking sound and still the man holds on, digging the taser into the back of his neck hard enough to force him into a stoop. His heart stops.   
  
Frank's body drops, the man lets him go, throws him aside like used garbage. He splashes in a shallow puddle. Hits the cracked and pitted concrete alleyway floor with a dull thud.   
  
“ _ No! _ " The word rips from Matt’s throat, the world buckles and shifts, Frank is gone just like that... Matt's panting, there's chaos around him, the sounds of the city and the shouts of the men overwhelming, the whole of Hell's Kitchen flooding him at once like a freezing, merciless ocean. None of it is as world-ending as the terribly small hunched and limp body, alone and dreadfully still on the damp concrete. The duffle has slipped from his fingers and he follows its fall as his friends move into action around him. A rifle clatters out, skitters against the road. It feels familiar, as if he's felt it in Frank’s hands before. Matt's hardly aware of bending to pick it up. It's cold in his hands. The light rain chilling his fingers more so, and he's oddly steady, panting with each breath. Through the wall of indistinguishable sound pressing in around him, Matt finds the man. He's running, retreating with his men, still holding... The taser is still in his hand... Matt raises the heavy chunk of metal. Hardly has to aim. Doesn't even think.   
  
_ BANG _   
  
Luke, right in front of him, grunting as his arm jerks back with the force of the bullet that he just caught in his hand. He stalks forward and rips the gun from Matt's hands, crumples it, throws it to the ground, shouting something Matt can't make out. Slaps the bullet against Matt's chest with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Matt staggers, all the numbness falling away, his head throbs, his throat burns, he's breathing to hard, too fast, and he can't stop. He's still moving through, trying to get past Luke, because if he can't shoot that man he can hurt him- he can- he- but Luke is neutralising his struggles. Matt can't overpower him, can't hear what anyone is shouting, too caught up in the undefinable whirlpool of sound and smell and the only clear thing in the world is that man, getting away, taser in hand...   
  
*   
  
Fuck  _ fuck _ , Frank's chest feels like there's someone crouched on it with a fucking drill... He can't  _ breathe _ can't think... He's coughing, trying to get up, trying to... Vision dark and flickering. Someone is grunting, angry, Matt- Matt- and the only word he can think is  _ no- no- no _ on a loop because that's what Matt screamed when he went down. There was a gunshot... who fired that shot... Fuck, his  _ chest. _ .. Jessica's hands stop with what had to have been compressions, she's holding his wrist, checking his pulse, is speaking to him, her hand is on his shoulder, can't hear her over the roaring in his ears.   
"M'fine Matt where's- Matt-" Frank grunts, struggles shoves himself up with one arm, the other clasped reflexively around his chest. Jess has untied his hands. He wants to hug her, just for that.   
"Luke's got him-" she says, supporting him when he falls back, gasping for air. "He tried to... the man who stopped your heart..." Frank struggles to breathe for several seconds at the thought of Matt with a gun in his hands.   
"He didn't- he..?" Is as close as he can get to the question but Jess knows what he means. Of course she does.   
"Luke stopped him." She says quickly. Frank lets out a relieved sound that's almost a sob. The earth is spinning violently out of control and his stomach is roiling with that on top of the vision of Matt pulling a trigger. He didn't do it... Frank blinks away the spots in his vision, eyes watering, gets them to focus on Matt, in a bear hug, struggling, murder in his eyes. Frank's only seen that expression once before, and that was when... No, no Matt can't do that Matt can't- has to stop him-   
"Matt..." He tries to call, but his voice is too weak. He struggles to get air, whole body aching, won't be wrestled into any kind of use. Luke is shouting.   
"Matt, he's alive Matt listen to me-" but Matt's screaming, thrashing, can't hear him...   
  
Frank's vision goes in and out again. He closes his eyes, presses them shut.   
"Matt. Red. Matt. Listen to me." He knows the volume doesn't matter, just has to get through all the noise. Frank opens his eyes and Luke is dragging Matt to where Frank is sprawled on the ground. He tries to sit but his head just spins wildly and he struggles to breathe again. "Matt, please, Matthew, Matt Murdock." Matt's still struggling but Luke shoves him to his knees beside Frank and he lands in all fours, stunned, chest heaving. Frank forces a breath in and keeps going, needs to catch Matt's attention before he tries to go after the man again. "Come back." His voice cracks. "Matt. Please." His head jerks suddenly, he freezes, head turning, turning.   
"Frank..." He chokes out, body faltering, sagging, one broken, breathless syllable. He reaches out his hands, shaking, and Frank somehow manages to lift one enough to meet his fingers. Matt weaves their hands together, drags himself closer.   
  
Jess moves out of the way and lets Matt wrap his arms around Frank's limp, shaking body, buries his face against his chest, breathes in heaving, almost growling gasps. Desperately sobbing against him, pressing his ear against his chest. Frank's vision dips and unfocuses and he hears himself groan as if distantly. Doesn't matter, Matt's close now.   
"It's ok please Matt please..." He doesn't know what he's saying now. Just wants Matt to stop making those wracking pained sounds.   
"You're alive you're alive." Matt mumbles, Frank just lies there because he couldn't move even if he wanted to.   
"Jess uh, saved me it was Jess..." Frank's going to pass out soon. He can feel himself sliding in and out.   
"I... Oh my god I nearly..." Matt's voice disintegrates and the next sound he makes is  _ worse _ , shock, pain.  _ You wanted this _ a cruel voice in his head says.  _ You tried to do this to him _ . For a couple of terrible seconds, he's sure he's going to throw up. He shuts his eyes and holds onto the sound of Matt breathing, fast and shuddering as it is.   
"Matt d-don't hurt yourself for me please don't..." He has to get the words out but he doesn't know how to say it. He's losing the physical ability to speak and Matt's still hyperventilating with his head pressed against him. "It's ok, it's gonna be ok..." He tells him uselessly, wishing his arms would move and that Matt wasn't wearing his helmet so he could pet his hair to sooth him because he... He  _ needs _ Matt to be calm. He realises he's shivering.   
"M'so c-cold Red..." Frank hears himself mumbling like some sort of cliché, some distance from himself. He clings on, somehow.   
"You're going to be ok, you're safe with me, you're safe do you hear me?" Matt clutches him tightly, voice desperate and manic.   
"I wasn’t lying I was gonna talk to… when they..." He says.   
"I know." Matt chokes. "I know you."   
"M'done." Frank mumbles. This time, it feels like a step forward, not like the end of the road. "I'm done."   
  
Matt's arms unfurl a little and it seems to Frank he has a sudden awareness of where he is. He's still holding Frank, which he's grateful for. He has a sudden sense that he might fall apart without him.   
"I'm sorry." Matt says. His voice sounds tremulous.   
"We tipped off the police. The others might have got some of them into custody.” Luke says tightly.   
"Thank you." Matt's head is down but he sounds ernest. "I... Thanks."   
"It was them who messed up the plan." Jess says carefully. "You just... Reacted." He makes a strangled sound and presses his forehead against Frank again. That severs whatever tether Frank was using to keep himself drifting above the pain barrier. Frank crashes down to earth, struggles to hold onto the sensation of Matt's arms, but his ribs and chest are grating like mangling gears and consciousness rips from his grasp.


	14. Chapter 14

When Frank wakes up, Matt can hear the panic, drug-dulled but plain, rising like a tide. Anyone could hear it, plugged into a heart monitor, but Matt can sense it in other ways. Smell it. He jumps up and crosses the room to kneel beside the bed and take his hand. Frank jumps at first but then clings on.  
"Matt." He says, as if to himself, as if taking note of his presence.   
"You're safe, please don't try to move." Frank gasps in and it's half a groan.   
"I know I k-know it's the, it's the _bed_ man, the, _beeping_ I..." He's shaking his head. Matt's stomach wrenches and he tightens his grip on Frank's hand.   
"We'll move you out of here as soon as we're sure you're stable ok?" He reaches to stroke his hair, reassures himself that there's no bandages wrapped around his head, no recent bullet wounds there. Frank is sweating a bit, blinking furiously and forcing his breathing under control.   
"Matt, Matt are you... He raises a hand to Matt's face. Matt tries his best not to move to hide it against Frank's hand.   
"I'm ok Frank." He's _not_ , of course he isn't. He's _barely_ holding on, he's _reeling_ but he can't, he _can't_ let himself crumble now, not with Frank like this.   
"Y'can talk to me." Frank says. Matt focusses on his face, sensing the stubborn set of his jaw. He's squared his shoulders. He's holding down the shake, though he's sounding and smelling like fear. Matt sighs and rests his head against him, lets Frank pet his hair which actually calms Frank as much as it does Matt.   
"I'm doing fine, please just relax."   
"Where's Cupcake?" Frank, to his credit manages to keep most of the desperation out of his voice.   
"With Jess. Claire can't let him in here." Frank shifts. "Ok." He shifts again and grimaces. "Did those bastards break my damn ribs again?" He lets out a bit of an exasperated chuckle.   
"I think they were cracked but then you... You know. Jess, compressions, she saved your life."   
"Oh. Yeah. Should uh, where is she?" Matt knows this strategy, Frank mentally orientating himself.   
"I can get her if you want."   
"She here?"   
"Yeah, in the lounge."   
"Ok, ok good. Not yet." His voice cracks. "Can... Can y'at least turn off the heart monitor?" He says, his voice has a pleading edge. Matt feels him shut his eyes, screw up his face. His hand tightens in Matt's.   
"I'll ask Claire ok?"   
"Thanks, sorry I, I can't..." He runs out of breath and stifles a sob, laughs bitterly and drags the back of his hand over his eyes.  
“You're safe.” Matt whispers.  
“I know I know.” He tightens his hand. “You're safe too. You saved her and she won't hurt you now. You handled it. And you saved me again.” His voice is soft. “You maybe shouldn't make a habit out of it. Yeah.”  
“Hey I’ll lay off the saving if you stop needing it, huh?” Matt grins and it’s surprisingly easy. Frank laughs and bats him on the head, it's more of a pat.

Claire turns off the monitor when she comes by later, a little grumblingly but she softens when she sees Frank relax more noticeably than he ever generally does anything. Matt is sat up on a trolley and slumped back against the wall behind him across the room from them. He allows them to assume he's sleeping and follows Claire with his senses. She seats herself on the edge of the bed.  
“Better?” Claire says.  
“Mm.” He gives her a pressed-lip smile. “Thanks. Again. Always savin’ me.”  
“Yeah, well. Sorta my job now. Not just extra curricular anymore.” She looks around the little room Foggy calls the “med bay”.  
“Listen, Frank. You need to avoid stress, alright. Might be asking a lot, I know. Try not to get yourself tasered again either, ok?” She smiles. Frank sighs and his mouth twitches.  
“I'll try my best.”  
“I'm glad you're back. Wasn't the same without you. He wasn't the same.” She nods in Matt’s direction.  
“He was even worse than usual.” Foggy says as he barges through the door, grinning. “How y’doin’, buddy?”   
“Foggy!” Frank blurts out, the word full of some kind of heavy surge of relief or else something Matt can’t place. There's a wild sort of smile in his voice. Foggy moves to Frank’s bedside. Claire stands up and straightens her shirt.  
“Got somewhere to be.” She smiles and touches Foggy’s shoulder as she moves out of the room. Foggy takes her seat beside Frank.

“Hey, Foggy.” Frank says. He can't quite look at him at first, now that his outburst has settled.  
“Good to see you alive, man.” Foggy says quietly. He reaches to grip his shoulder. Frank shakes his head a bit and chuckles a little painfully.  
“Y’dont have t’like me for him, Foggy. You know that?” Frank shifts uncomfortably.  
“Yeah I know that.” Foggy says gently. “I didn't come meet you in that diner for him. You're my friend. You needed help.” Frank lies there in silence for some time.  
“I did.” Frank admits finally, choked and awkward, as if he doesn't really know what to do with Foggy’s words. “Didn't get it right away. Nearly too late by the time I did but uh, thanks.”  
“Any time. Or er, please don't make this a regular thing or you might kill me.”  
“Not planning on it.” Frank says sheepishly.  
“Good to know.”

“Frank.” Matt sits up at once, Karen is standing in the doorway, he didn't notice her approach. He should probably see about getting some real sleep. Frank doesn't jolt, but the old tension is back, invisible to Karen and Foggy, but Matt can feel it in his muscles. Frank stares at her, Karen’s face is blank from Matt’s limited grasp of what it’s doing. Frank’s heart rate goes up, hair trigger as always. Karen crosses to him suddenly. Matt is only halfway to his feet when she drops to her knees and takes his hand.  
“Take better care of yourself, Castle.” She says, voice intense, warning. “I didn't run around after you for all those weeks just for you to get yourself killed now.” Frank chuckles tiredly and tugs her hand upwards.  
“On your feet, kiddo, c’mon get up you can't be on the ground f’me.” Karen stands, doesn't let go of his hand. Foggy jumps up and Karen shakes her head.  
“I don't need your chair Foggy.” She tries to protest but he's already fetched another from across the room. Claire keeps enough of them around for anyone in here to have a few visitors at a time. Karen thanks him and sits, turns back to Frank.  
“Are you ok in here?” She turns her head around, taking in the clinical walls and bed and machines he's hooked up to and Frank just shakes his head and smiles wryly.  
“M’not strapped down this time, so.” He manages to sound convincingly dismissive, but Matt can hear what his heart does when he says it and suddenly, his head is full of the sound and taste of chains and he has to clench his fists on the dizzying anger at anyone who ever restrained Frank Castle. Remembered flashes of the courtroom burst into his mind, the sheer _wrongness_ of it turns his stomach.

“Jesus, Matt. Have you been sleeping? You look like you need to pass out for 10 hours.” Foggy blurts out and he's back on earth again.  
“I'm fine.” Matt hopes his lie isn't too blatant.  
“Sit down before you fall down.” Foggy grumbles and drags him into his chair.  
“Just like old times huh?” Matt forces a grin.  
“Stay behind the line, miss Page.” Frank grins up at her from under his brow and this time it's real. The other two laugh at the joke but when Matt’s sputters out, startled and unsteady, he's shaking his head a little exasperatedly because of all the things for Frank to find genuinely funny, it's that he was once considered enough of a monster that he had a designated safety line on the floor around his hospital bed. But Karen has his hand clasped between her’s now, the three of them are here out of simple relief at his safety.  
“I'm sorry I left.” He's speaking to all of them now, voice a little hoarse. “And uh, thanks for… givin’ me way too many chances.” Frank seems maybe like he's going to say something else but then he just sort of coughs and nods. Matt knows that’s it. That gruff little thanks, straightforward and all that really needs to be said.

  
*

The others are nervous around Matt now. Making an effort not to leave him alone, yes, but out of concern or the need to watch him, Matt can't say. Still, for maybe the first time in his life his instinct isn't to isolate himself. He realises this with a jolt one day when Foggy meets him one lunch time and grins as he slides into the booth opposite him and Matt is just overwhelmingly relieved.

“So. Little bird told me you’ve been offered a full-time position.” Foggy says. Matt blinks. They don't talk about work. Matt has been steady and part-time for a few months now, even with everything going on. It had been necessary once he had recovered control over his senses. Easing himself back into the world just seemed like the next logical step to take. That and he was laughably broke at that point.  
“ _I_ only just found that out.” He says mildly, because he knows what he selfishly _wants_ Foggy to say next, in the ideal world where he _isn't_ the world’s greatest fuck-up.  
“You could do better, you know. Job-wise.” Foggy’s being mild right back and Matt is completely unprepared for the twist of longing he gets from his words.  
“Yeah, well,” Matt shrugs. “Maybe if I was more reliable.” He says carefully.  
“Ok look, don't take this as proof that you are ever right about anything.” Foggy says with a little sigh. “But I’ve been thinking. I don't think this whole corporate soulless hell landscape is for me.”  
“Uh.”  
“Don't you dare say I told you so, by the way, but I think I actually kinda prefer to help people.”  
“Foggy.”  
“No listen I know we don't talk about work after you kinda dramatically work-broke up with me like a girlfriend in a tacky action movie.”  
“I don't-”  
“-But you're not in that place anymore Matt you've worked out you can't be the guy who pushes everyone away. I'm thinking maybe nobody is that guy, really. Or nobody should be.”  
“What are you saying?” Matt says, unsure and barely daring to hope.  
“I'm asking.” Foggy says. “Can you do it?”

Matt keeps Foggy pinpointed with his senses, stunned and blank and with no idea what to say.  
“No pressure.” Foggy says because the silence was dragging on a bit. “If it's not something you want just pretend I never said-”  
“Foggy.” Matt says, choking out a breathless exasperated laugh. “A-are you serious? You’d… give me another chance like that?” Matt grabs his smoothie and hurriedly takes a covering gulp with shaking hands. ‘Overwhelmed’ doesn't begin to cover it.  
“Come on Matty.” Foggy says with a kind of helpless sigh. “Nelson and Murdock… the stuff we did was _good_ . Like, it was kinda _fulfilling._ I mean, not all the time…”  
“Punisher…” Matt says wincing.  
“Yeah, not so great, but you had all your own shit going on with Elektra and Ninjas and not _sharing_ and that won't be a problem now.” Foggy isn't even adding a warning note to his voice he just sounds _trusting_ , dismissing something that should have ended their friendship for good _at least_ twice over like it's a minor detail _._ Matt drinks his smoothie and tries to _not_ burst into tears out of sheer shock and amazement more than anything. “And honestly I think Frank woulda tanked that trial if you'd been pulling your weight or not, he was _not_ in a good place.” Foggy says and Matt laughs, can't help himself, really laughs. ‘Not in a good place’ is just such a comically understated way of referring to a suicidal murder spree. Foggy chuckles along with him.

“I don't have any money for start-up.” Matt says after a moment.  
“Please, do you _realise_ how well my job pays. Waving dismissively” Foggy adds as he waves a hand. He's seamlessly incorporated narrating-for-Matt back onto how they communicate since the tunnels. Matt can't tell if he's held onto it out of habit, effect, or because he suspects, rightly, that Matt’s senses don't always compensate quite so well as he lets on now that he knows a bit more about how they work. Matt supposes the ambiguity is intentional. Foggy knows how Matt is about accepting help.  
“Foggy…” Matt said, voice thick.  
“You are officially banned from martyr-y protests such as ‘I don't deserve you Foggy’.” He puts on a comically tearful voice. “Your only parameters for acceptance are; _can_ you do this?” Foggy says clearly. Matt nods.  
“Right.”  
“You know me buddy.” Foggy says sounding a bit smug. “I could do this without you, but…” he goes serious again. “I’d rather _not._ ”  
“Just ‘Nelson’ _would_ look kind of lonely on a plaque.” Matt smiles.  
“Is that a yes?” Foggy says sounding _terribly_ nervous for someone who has given Matt something so unimaginably wonderful.  
“Yes Foggy. God yes.”

*

Frank is jittery around people, but a whole hell of a lot worse without. Not that he's acknowledging any of it, as per predictable form. So far as Matt can tell from when he sees him, it's a kind of circuit. His own mind gets too much for him to sort through alone, so he seeks out the noise and distraction of the others, only slipping back off to the dorms when everything gets too much. Which is does, because his very real very undeniable PTSD has never been more visible or less concealable, and because it seems to clash with whatever it is about the position of the _bullet_ in his brain that screws with his panic response. Matt has come into base on more than one occasion in the couple of weeks it's been, to find Frank hunched with his knees pulled into his chest at one end of his bunk with Cupcake licking at his forehead as he calms himself back down again. They don't feel the _same_ as a panic attack, part of it is mechanical in a way Matt knows he can't begin to understand, but they are something close enough to that for Matt to feel it in his bones.

Frank shortly refers to it as ‘looping’ once, in a hollow little rumble, face bloodless and body sagging with exhaustion, and that's all the insight he’ll volunteer. Matt is struck with a sense that this has happened before, Frank has a strategy, he has a name for it. He blinks at Matt distantly, still clinging onto his hand tightly enough that it's just short of painful. He seems sort of closed in and fragile, breathing very quietly. Matt can't ask him about it now. He resolves to find some way to get him to agree to whatever therapy they can find once he's recovered from his injuries. Someone must know someone.

But he is more _Frank_ with the others. He can spend more and more time with them, like he's relearning his own rhythms. Even if he sometimes misjudges and exhausts himself physically and needs to be gently persuaded back to bed by whoever is paying attention. Regularly being surrounded by friends makes him feel just safe enough to be getting on with. Of course, he _should_ still be exercising proper bed rest, but it seems to Matt everyone just sort of understands that the mental ramifications of that just wouldn't be worth the faster physical recovery.  
“Just like old times, Castle.” Jess says, flopping down beside Frank on the couch and getting a wince out of him as her weight bounces him on his sofa cushion. Cupcake lifts his head from Frank’s lap to look round at her and Matt’s imagination supplies a withering expression.  
“Seems that way. Only _she's_ here now. Frank says flatly. Elektra moves from the kitchen to perch in the arm of a chair. Matt has noticed that their relationship seems to have progressed. Sure, it's progressed from sullen glaring and snapped words when forced to communicate, to what could optimistically be described as ‘borderline confrontational banter’, but progress is progress.  
“Do I _really_ make things so different?” She stirs her hot chocolate with apparent thoughtfulness. “To me, _you_ are somewhat of an interloper here.”  
“You ever been part of a real team in your life?” Frank says, only vaguely ruffled. Elektra doesn't appear to hear. She crosses her legs and leans forward with a dangerous little smile.  
“Does Matthew still have that _ear thing_ …” Frank’s trigger finger twitches and Matt can feel his face getting hot from across the room. Jessica sits up straighter and Matt quickly crosses towards them to prevent some kind of altercation.  
“Hey Elektra when you're done with that, Danny was telling me earlier he thought you were ready for a tour of the gym?” As diplomacy goes it's weak but Elektra smiles graciously and nods her head at him. She hops to her feet with irritating dexterity for someone with no pulse and a cup of hot chocolate in one hand.  
“I will go and look for him immediately I've been quite eager to try him out. _It_ out.” Her smile widens and she practically skips away.

*

“Can I…” Frank shifts, about to ask Matt something and dropping his head instead. They're curled up together, shoulders touching. Matt managed to tuck a blanket around Frank without him protesting too much. He seems a lot better than the last time Matt spent any time with him. A bit more peaceful.  
“We’re the only ones here.” Matt says softly. “Or, Karen’s in her office but she's out of earshot.” Frank nods at his words and shuts his eyes, letting his head roll onto Matt’s shoulder.  
“I like bein’ here, like the company.” Frank says carefully. “But uh, I feel like I need my own space, now.”  
“You want to come to my apartment?” Matt kisses the top of his head because he's tensing up, as if Matt could react badly to this request of all things.  
“Would that… I mean…” Frank stumbles over his words.  
“Frank I knew the others were helping so I didn't want to push.” He says softly. “That and… well Claire hasn't been in my apartment since…” he stops and chuckles. “But I want to take care of you. Give you that proper meal.”  
“You're a lousy cook.” Frank gripes but sighs happily against Matt’s neck. He rearranges his arms and… he's just so soft and placid like this, so far removed from angry, desperate Frank or locked down, stony Frank that Matt has to stroke his hair and kiss him on the nose just to remind himself that this is real.

*

Matt gets Frank safely to his apartment as soon as Claire is sure he can be moved that far, and Jess is sure nobody’s place is being watched.  
  
Frank seems too small. He hasn't been eating properly since he... slipped, too scrabbling and desperate to hide himself in the violence to keep himself straight. Two days of captivity where Matt's sure they didn't feed him, and he feels... Like thinking there's one more step than there is and the moment when your foot only finds empty air. Matt wants to cry all over again the first time he gets his arms around him once he's back at his place. Now that Claire has pronounced him fit for something other than bed rest, Matt isn't using every touch to confirm a steady heartbeat, to make sure he's still there. They're both in t-shirts and sweatpants again like they've fallen back into habits that neither of them have had for long, really. Frank's body language is all wrong, but the noise he makes when Matt tugs him close is almost right, even if the shape of him is like someone has moved all the furniture in his apartment two inches to the right. Matt manages not to release the little devastated sound that tries to crawl out of his throat and just buries his face against his shoulder instead. Frank sighs, still more relief than happiness, and let's his shoulders drop, raises his arms enough to get them around Matt's waist and tug him closer.   
"I dunno what you felt, man." Frank chuckles. "I'm ok."   
"Just wanted to hold you." Matt lies. "That ok?" Frank balls his hands up in Matt's shirt, drops his forehead against Matt's shoulder and makes a little wordless rumbling sound of conformation.   
  
Frank holds on, maybe a bit tighter than he's letting on that he needs, and then pulls back just enough to get one hand on Matt's face in that way that Matt knows Frank likes a lot on himself. His face is a mess at the moment, Matt has wanted nothing more than to feel his familiar features, but knows there precious little of it unmarked by bruises right now. Frank coaxes Matt's face up so that he can look at it, strokes his thumb against the corner of Matt's mouth and then plants a soft kiss there. Matt feels the split in his lip and just holds Frank all the tighter. He reaches to put his hand against Frank's, his fingertips accidentally skimming the scabbed welts around his wrists. Frank doesn't shudder, but there's an almost undetectable tensing for just a moment.   
"You can talk to me, you know that." Matt says softly.   
"Matt, I was spilling my guts to you coupla days after we first met." He tries to sound casual but he just sounds a bit tired. "I'll talk if I need it, I promise." He puts their foreheads together and let's out another little sigh. "Sorry I'm not... Right."   
"God, Frank, it's only been a couple of weeks." Matt says a little desperately because he knows that's not what Frank means, really.   
  
They break apart, gently, and Frank moves to the kitchen, pulls out a chopping board. It's a bit early for dinner but Matt doesn't say anything, just finds something to read and let's Frank go to the oddly zen place he goes to when he cooks. Danny even complimented Frank's chi, once when he was cooking.

Matt's reading again after they've eaten. Frank has something on the tv which he settles in front of, but he starts to fidget after a little while. One of his fingers is tapping against the arm of the chair and he can't seem to get comfortable.  
"Matt?" He says, after several minutes of this, swinging his head around to grimace in Matt's direction. Matt realises he's been working up to saying something and uncurls himself out of the corner of the sofa. He leans forward and puts the papers down on the coffee table.   
"What is it?" Frank grabs the remote almost feverishly and thumbs the power button. The click of the screen powering down and the silence that follows seems to take an eternity, Frank's finger tapping nervously against his leg all the while. He makes a fist to still it and then opens his mouth to speak.

"I'm not lookin' to make excuses for what I've done." He says. Matt wants to protest, he can feel Frank's heart beginning to thump, but if he has to say this, he has to listen. "I'm not about… diminished responsibility, you know that."  
"Frank..." He holds up a hand.   
"Don't, not now it's not, _important_ if you agree that doesn't affect what I'm going to say I just... I just want you to know that I made a bad decision and I'm not gonna make out like it wasn't mine and I'm not gonna blame this." He taps his temple. "But..." He can't seem to look at Matt, staring straight ahead with his jaw set. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He lets out a defeated breath, half closed in on himself. "It's not... I can't pretend it's easy. Lately it's worse." His voice trails off into a croak. He drops his head, heart thumping. "It doesn't _stop_ . You can tell right?” He looks up at Matt briefly. “You’re always catching me.”  
“Yes um, the human body has signals when it's in fight or flight mode and you… you get there more than you should. I noticed you were jumpy, you know, before court but, you were under a lot of stress every time we met so I didn't realise until later quite how...” Matt trails off. Frank’s breath hisses out in a short humourless rush, as if hearing it from Matt confirms it somehow.  
“Yeah.” He says, shuts his eyes, face stiff for a second while he tries to compose himself. Matt reaches towards him.  
"No wait. I'm nearly finished." He shifts and sniffs. "God I'm a mess, ok..." He mutters with a helpless chuckle and shakes his head as if to clear it. "You make it better. Before you I didn't know it _could_ be better, but, it got hard an' I didn't..." He struggles to find the words and let's out a frustrated little sigh when he can't get them out. "You know what happened."   
"I know, it's ok."   
"No it's _not_ ‘cause I can't, I can't afford to lose myself like that again." And Matt knows from the edge of desperate fear in his voice that he's being honest, there's no drama in it, he's scared of _himself_ or his own mental limits and it wrenches Matt's guts. It's all he can do to keep himself from holding him again. He clenches his teeth and makes himself listen. "So I spoke to Claire." He looks up, eyes a little damp now, Matt can just about make out a weak sort of smile but he can't be sure. "I'm gonna take the medication. I gotta try, right? Especially with the..." He touches his chest. "Only seems sensible." Matt smiles.   
"Mr Castle you have to be the most sensible man I know." Frank coughs out a weak laugh, a little breathless and slouched now he's got out what he wanted to say.   
"Think you mean sexy." Frank mumbles with a little half smile. Matt snaps his fingers.   
"That's the one." Frank reaches for him and let's out a shuddering sigh of relief when Matt's arm wraps around his shoulders. He slumps and Matt kisses the top of his head.   
"It won't fix it or nothin'. Claire says, you know, it'll just... maybe help." He sounds almost apologetic. Matt kisses his head again, reaches to stroke his hair. He smiles. "Do whatever you need to do."

  
*

  
It's dark when Frank gets back to Matt’s place one night. He knows Matt has probably been out Daredeviling, he did that often enough before Frank was well enough to go out without company.

"Hey Matt..." He's cautious, so eager to check he's around that he passes the light switch without thinking to turn it on. There's a shape sprawled out on the couch, pale skin in the dim light, marred by bruising... Frank rushes to the couch, throws himself on the ground beside it.  
"Matt? Matt are you-" but now he's closer the bruises don't look so bad as he feared and Matt is opening his eyes, smiling up at him.   
"Hey, Frank." He reaches out and Frank can actually feel his blood pressure begin to fall as Matt's warm fingertips touch skin.   
"Scared me." He says, tries to laugh it off.   
Matt cups his face and strokes his jaw with his thumb.  
"It's late." Matt says fondly. "Haven't been back long."   
"Yeah, yeah uh, Luke and I swapped some war stories. He's a good guy." Frank's still kneeling and he sits back on his heels, reaches to touch Matt's skin, avoiding the bruises. He's hesitant at first, but the sound Matt makes as his palm runs over his ribs and along his waist is like a balm.  
“You were both kids when you joined up, huh?” Matt says. Frank chuckles.  
“Yeah well, mine was a bit more voluntary. He's never much liked guns. I had a uh, a different experience.”  
“You can say that again.” Matt smiles and skims his fingertips upward to fluff the front of Frank’s sparse buzz cut.

"I've missed you." Matt says quietly.  
"Me too." Frank drops his head and kisses him lightly. Matt makes another happy humming sound that seems to lodge itself somewhere behind Frank's sternum. Matt catches his head in his hands. He carefully strokes with his thumbs.   
"You don't have to sleep out here, you know that right?" Frank tries to laugh but only makes a breathless choking sound. He tries to cover it by dropping his head and kissing Matt on the navel. Matt makes a stifled chuckle and twitches, but he gently coaxes Frank's head up to look at him. Frank won't look at first, keeps his eyes down. but when he does, Matt is frowning a little. The crease between his eyes hurts Frank's chest.   
"You don't have to stay out here." Matt pets his hair, eyes falling a little to his left. "You're... you aren't a monster, sweetheart." Frank mumbles some involuntary sound as Matt's affection inevitably jolts his stomach and shakes his head. He bows it, pushes himself away from the couch, sits back on his heels.

Matt waits, one hand still tangling itself as best it can in Frank's cropped hair. He focusses on that, disembodies the feeling from himself and manages to only think of Matt. His hand. Warm, gentle fingers. After a few moments he finds himself steady enough to speak again.  
"Can't do it yet, it's not... not yet. Yeah." He rumbles out, throat burning with frustration. "M'sorry." He hears his voice shake and lets his back bend, lets his forehead rest against Matt's torso. He squeezes his eyes shut, too full of shame to move, hands balled into fists beside him, trying not to shake.   
"It's ok." Matt whispers, both hands running through his hair, now. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."   
"It's not that it's, I just, not ready yet. I am sorry."   
"It's ok, it's ok." Matt breathes. Frank kisses his soft flesh, feels his muscles move under his lips. He keeps them there. Breathes through his nose, in, out. Matt hasn't showered yet, but the smell of him is nothing but good. Frank is so utterly set on blocking out everything worse, on wrapping himself up on the sensation of Matt's hands against his scalp and the slow rise and fall of Matt's diaphragm, that he takes a while to notice the tiny gasping sounds Matt makes when he breathes out. Frank takes in a particularly long breath and pushes it all out in a steady stream. Matt's gasp this time sounds more like a sigh, just a bright, light sound of pleasure. Frank smiles against Matt's skin.   
  
He pokes his tongue out just a little.   
"Mmmm..." Matt practically purrs, it's shameless, and Frank opens his mouth to lick a line from belly button to the apex of his ribcage. Matt smiles and shuts his eyes, pushes his chin up a little to arrange his head comfortably. Frank lifts a hand to trace the cooling line back the other way with his thumb. The other hand he lets run along the smooth skin of Matt's arm, up to his shoulder, along his collarbone. Bed or not, he has no trouble with this.   
  
Frank runs his hands, feather-light, all over Matt's abdomen, before moving downward. He explores his thighs, tensing and untensing with pleasure, moves his lips down to run along the soft inside edge. Matt's is butter-smooth here, and Frank lets out an involuntary sigh, a strange blooming sensation in his chest. He has to press his face against it, let some of the warmth there seep into his skin.  
“Is that… you’re ok, right?” Matt breathes.  
“Ribs are fine.” Frank lifts his lips from Matt’s skin to tell him and Matt can hear the truth. He relaxes and smiles. Frank lowers his mouth down again.   
"Frank..." Matt says, not a demand, just a soft little breath of happiness. Frank mouths his way upward, the tang of sweat on his tongue. Matt breathes out slowly, edged with the quietest moan, and puts his hand in Frank's hair, grips his shoulder with the other. Matt's shoulders are wide and muscular and Frank finds himself marvelling at the shape of them, carefully running his fingers along his collarbones, cupping his deltoids, running his palms inwards to his neck and stroking it with his thumbs, hands settled on either side. His head is a little bowed towards him, but not in a hiding or defeated way, he's just more relaxed than he's felt for too long. The relief is consuming, like a soft, warm blanket away from a hailstorm.   
  
Frank leans down and kisses Matt's mouth softly.   
"Mmm..." The sound vibrates Matt's lips and Frank licks the two of them apart again. He brushes his nose against Matt's, runs his thumbs along his neck once more to feel his breath stutter in his fingertips as he takes in the thrown back, blissful angle of Matt's head. Matt shifts a little, intending to get up.   
"Wait you don't have to, just let me... uh, you know what, how 'bout you tell me what you want, huh?" Frank brushes his lips against Matt's neck and his sigh shudders out of him. Matt settles back and reaches out to stroke the backs of his fingers across Frank's neck and trail then around to grip the back of it. He strokes his thumb up and down there, considering for a moment.   
"Tell you what to do?" He says doubtfully.   
"Tell me what's good."   
"Anything you do with your hands or uh, or your mouth is pretty much..." Frank grins, brushes a fingertip over Matt's nipple and he shifts. "Ahn..."   
"Good?" Frank murmurs. Matt laughs and rubs the back of Frank's head. Frank kisses Matt's lips one more time and moves down.   
  
Matt's hands stay settled in Frank's hair as he very gently kisses and licks a trail down Matt's neck. He sighs out a hissing breath and Frank chuckles against his skin. Matt trembles comfortably. When Frank's tongue settles on his nipple, he presses it there, and Matt moans. He's breathless, neck arching.   
"That, that's good." He says, voice breaking in the middle as Frank flicks his tongue. He circles it, Matt panting and shuddering. He alternately balls up his hands and strokes them through Frank's hair. Frank teases him with his teeth, running them over the skin and Matt is too breathless to even cry out.   
"Yes- y-yes." He says hurriedly. "Please- please-" he pants and shifts and Frank hums and nuzzles it gently, raising his eyes to steal a look at Matt's slack jaw, watch his neck undulate as he swallows and tenses and rolls his head from side to side. Frank leans over him and swaps targets, reaching to stroke the wet nub of flesh he just left while he closes his mouth around the other. Matt makes a helpless, almost urgent sound that gets Frank making one right back.  
  
Frank releases him, nipples pink and hard, to kiss his way down Matt's abs, heaving in and out with his panting breaths. He dips his tongue into Matt's naval and he shudders.   
"Nah-" So Frank moves on, down to his hip bones, to the smooth roll of muscle there, and Matt is gasping happily again. He moves his hands down to grip Frank's shoulders and Frank nibbles gently at the skin, winning a little moan. He doesn’t linger there long, travels downward licking and kissing and blowing out little puffs of air, nibbling a little here and there, until his head is nestled against Matt’s clothed crotch and Matt’s breath flutters blissfully.

Frank noses there, slowly, almost lazily. He reaches for the elasticated waistband of Matt’s shorts. With a forefinger tucked inside, he looks up at Matt expectantly.  
“Yes.” He breathes. “Yes…” Frank smiles against his thigh, slowly, an inch at a time tugs at the briefs. Matt shifts to help and soon is lying naked, hard, body flexing just a little as he lies spread out on the couch in front of Frank like a dream, like a miracle. Matt reaches for Frank’s collar and gives it a tug at the back. Frank grins and obliges, sitting up and reaching to pull it over his head. He's still wearing the rib brace Claire gave him, but Matt seems delighted anyway, reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly across as much undamaged torso as he can reach, smile wide and loose and glowing. Frank stares at him, just drinks in the sight, absently massaging his thumbs up and down where they sit on either side of Matt’s ribs.

He takes a slow, long breath in, and deliberately blows it out, bending down to direct the flow of air between Matt’s pecs (doesn't want to touch, just there, the scars are still visible) and then down in a line. His diaphragm heaves in and out with panting bliss just at that sensation as Frank continues to blow air out of his puffed out cheeks, slowly moving down.

“G-good-” Matt gasps and Frank wants to laugh out of sheer delight that he can get that kind of reaction out of him without even making contact. Just _how_ sensitive Matt’s skin is hasn't been something he's ever taken the time to figure out. Now though… no rush now. He takes another breath in and continues down, blowing out following the little trail of hair and then, leaning closer to direct the flow along the length of him. The sound Matt makes isn't impatient or wanting, it's an honest-to-god sigh of pleasure, as if Frank already has him in his mouth. He does it again, closer, almost kissing, little puffs of air now, moving to the tip and down his shaft. Matt moans a shameless, happy sound. A few more minutes of this, Frank just systematically directing the air around Matt’s cock, and Matt chuckles, the sound of it distorted with pleasure but still light and warm. Frank glances up from his efforts to find Matt grinning widely, mouth a little open.  
“Blow job…” He mutters. Frank has to laugh, sudden inspiration getting him using the choppy air from that to get Matt gasping gently and shifting his hips, body taking on a sort of rolling tension, muscles twitching in a wave throughout his body.

Frank takes another breath and moves down a little further, directing the air at Matt’s balls now, stroking his thighs very gently with one thumb. The sound Matt makes this time is deeper, softer somehow, all the velvet rumble that edges his voice in one warm sound. Frank doesn't stop breathing out, drawing in closer and closer, Matt’s throat tied up with intensity tightening his sounds, thighs and hips twitching under Frank, until his neck is resting against Matt’s leg, and his lips touch down. Matt’s moan is heavier this time, and when Frank presses his lips into the warm flesh, Matt’s back arches, the sound quiet and rushed, as if it were shocked out of him.

“F-Frank-” he breathes, voice a shaking whine, Frank’s tongue working in a slow figure of eight while Matt grabs his head with shaking hands and gently holds him there. “G-God yes this- t-this is good-” his voice is trembling and urgent and the sound goes straight to Frank’s crotch, as he opens his mouth to suck, intent on his task. Matt’s hands clench and unclench, head thrown back, mouth opening and closing in little flutters of movement. He laps an even rhythm, Matt groaning and writhing under his mouth. Opens his jaw wide and sucks the soft flesh into his mouth, moving his tongue in long slow circles tightening his lips to squeeze. His hands are tucked in either side of Matt’s hips. He runs one of them in a slow, soft trail and curls it around Matt. Starts to stroke him slowly, carefully. His body melts and coils intermittently, Frank moaning along with him out of sheer uncontrollable amazement at the way Matt responds to his languid pulls as he sucks and licks.

“I'm gonna- Frank- _Frank-_ ” Matt moans and gasps and Frank swaps to get his lips around his cock instead. He gets a hand on the damp skin he left behind and squeezes them gently, runs his fingertips in little light massaging movements as he bobs his head and sucks and tightens his mouth, drops his head as deeply as it can go from this angle and really works his whole jaw. Matt’s loud now, _can't_ keep still and God, Frank’s heart throbs and glows with the knowledge that he can do this for Matt, he can cause pleasure like this despite everything. Matt’s hands ball into fists on his head and Frank groans around his shaft as he feels his body stiffen and shake under him, Matt’s groans sounding like an overflow, like something he needed to let out all along. He jerks and twitches and shudders as he comes, moaning Frank’s name in a tight, breathless whine that Frank thinks could make him come all on its own as he swallows and licks his way off Matt.

He lets his dick slip from his lips with a soft wet sound and follows it up with a kiss on the belly. Matt chuckles, hands still pawing at his head, soft and clumsy with afterglow now. Frank leans forward against him, still planted on the ground but let's his torso sag against Matt’s, lets Matt get his arms around him.  
“How d’you last that long? You're that sensitive…” Matt shrugs.  
“Don't want it to be over.” He says simply. “Come up here, can't have you on the ground, come on…” Matt sits up before Frank can protest and gives his arm a little tug. Frank moves up. Matt looks a little wary and holds on in case he needs to steady him, until Frank is sat beside him with his back resting against the cushions.

“You didn't overdo it?” Matt is kneeling at his side, still completely, unabashedly naked. Frank is still wearing his jeans and he's actually straining uncomfortably against the fabric, and that’s before Matt moves to kneel with a knee on either side of his thighs. He straddles him without touching, one hand on his shoulder one on his chest, hovering over the brace.  
“M’fine.” Frank smiles and reaches to get a hand on each side of Matt’s torso. “You're bigger.”  
“I am?” Matt splutters out a laugh.  
“Yeah. Spendin’ more time in the gym huh?” Frank strokes his chest with one hand. His skin is still smooth and soft but the muscles stand out a little more than they used to, he's a little bulkier all the way around, actually, it's easier to tell now that he's sat looming over him like this instead of melted into the cushions.  
“I uh, guess so.” He settles gently on Frank’s lap. Frank outright groans just from that much friction, head going back. Matt bends to fasten his lips on Frank’s neck and kisses, sucks.  
“Uhn…” Frank tightens his hands on Matt’s waist, Matt grinding against him. His ass rubs against his thighs and Frank can't contain himself, shifting and moaning. At this rate, Matt is going to put him to shame.

Matt moves, frighteningly smoothly and effortlessly, lifting from Frank’s lap and settling on the ground in front of him as if he isn't probably pushing 190lbs these days. His hands work the button and fly of his jeans and then he's carefully helping Frank out of them. He's mobile enough, doesn't really need it but Matt’s hands are steady and sure and warm and it's _nice,_ so he lets him help, lets him slowly draw down his underwear until they're both naked, Matt kneeling at his feet.

Silence, and for a second Frank begins to think something is wrong. Matt is tilting his head and focussing, but then he smiles and his head drops carefully towards Frank. He'd just been reading him, confirmed by the way Matt lets his hands run all over him now, before moving downward to his legs, hands soft and worn all at once, then back up again… He gets a hand on Frank’s hips and then drops his head. Maybe he can read how worked up Frank was from looking and touching and coaxing Matt lazily to the finish, because Matt seems to know how desperate he is for this better than Frank even realised himself. And it's… it's unimaginably good. He has to look, though he knows he won't last long if he does but it doesn't matter. He has to watch Matt giving him this, Matt with his lips closed around him, bobbing his head with enthusiasm, moaning. It's not taking something, Matt just wants him to feel good. He can let himself have this.

“ _F-fuck…”_ He stammers and takes Matt’s head in his hands, runs them through his hair. He's slumped back against the cushions, shaking and twitching under Matt’s hands and under his mouth, gasping and, God help him, whimpering as Matt licks his way up and down, sucks, goes deeper… coaxing wave after wave of white, gasping sparks. Frank watches Matt breathe in through his nose, turn his head and let his eyes close, hair falling in his face where Frank’s scrabbling hands aren't keeping it back.  
“Matt… M-” His rhythm increases, the pressure of his mouth tightens and Frank’s words dissolve into a deep, breathless groan. Matt makes a satisfied sound and that’s it, Frank feels his body stiffen and shake as bright heat rises and expands overwhelmingly, every breath coming in a gasping cry. Matt hums as he swallows around Frank, holding him tightly at the waist with strong, sure fingers until his body trembles and melts against the couch again.

His hands slip from Matt’s head and Matt is beside him, kissing his mouth with his damp, red lips and stroking his neck and the back of his head. He puts their foreheads together. Frank sighs, comfortable and happy and close.  
“Not uh, not so much space on this couch to snuggle, huh?” Frank can only get the word out with an edge of irony to it. Matt’s brow furrows for a moment, and Frank opens his mouth to clarify that he doesn't mean he doesn't _want_ to, but then Matt’s face breaks into a wide grin when he realises what Frank’s getting at.

It's like the first time all over again, Matt and Frank half staggering across the apartment, Matt pulling him close to his chest and arranging the sheets around them both. Frank’s admittedly a bit nervous at first, that he’s miscalculated, that he's going to get overcome with that sense of dread that Matt’s bed is the last sacred piece of him and Frank is defiling it somehow, but nothing happens. He's just warm, secure in Matt’s arms. He’s awake long enough to feel Matt’s lips press against the back of his neck, and then he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Frank really needs to stop passing out at the end of chapters.


	15. Chapter 15

“Think it's about time you had your dog back.” Jess is holding a leash with a very excited pitbull on the end of it. He's pulling, looking like he should be yanking skinny Jessica halfway across the apartment by now . She's incongruously not moving at all. Frank invites her in and the door shuts behind her before he crouches down to greet the dog.  
“Hey buddy.” He unclips the leash. Cupcake manages to jump his way to a couple of licks on Frank’s chin and circles him several time. He rolls onto his back for a belly rub before he considers himself satisfactorily greeted and sniffs his way through the apartment to find Matt. Frank stands up and watches him go.  
“So uh, you doin’ ok?”  
“Not so bad. I think Elektra is getting less creepy. Or I'm getting used to her.”  
“Mm.” Frank grunts without troubling to fake enthusiasm.  
“You're looking better.” Jess dips her head to catch his eye.  
“Yeah, heh, bruises are fading now, ‘bout time. I've forgotten what my face looks like.”  
“Meant you don't seem so tense.”  
“Yeah, well. He holds me steady.” Frank huffs out a quiet little chuckle and drops his head against his chest, rubs the back of his neck. Sometimes it still feels like someone’s going to pull the rug out from under him, it's hard to believe his luck. Jess gets that, he can see it in her face and she hugs him, just a quick one-armed thing, but Jess isn't huge on hugs and he can tell it's genuine.

“How are the ribs?” She says with a half grin. He chuckles.  
“Not so bad.”  
“Alright well, take it easy, hotshot, now you're cohabiting again.” She's smirking at him and Frank grins suddenly and widely.  
“M’durable enough thanks.”  
“Do I have to have a talk with Matthew about being careful with you?”  
“ _You’re_ the one who broke five of my ribs--”  
“Hey now--”  
“Not a complaint!” He says, raising both his hands and still grinning more widely than he has done in quite a while, actually. “But _he_ doesn't have any super strength.”  
“Don't make me pick you up again.” She can't help but let a little smirk past her customary grumpy frontage.  
“Oh so it was _you_ who carried me back huh? I thought I picked up a few extra bruises.”  
“As if you'd have been able to tell, you looked like you’d had a fight with four flights of stairs.”  
“I think Matt might have tried that once.” Frank says and then let's his laughter fade and drops his head. “Seriously though, you don't have to worry about me. I really am takin’ it easy. ‘Sides, I can't fake it with him. Even if I wanted to.” He knows Matt could be listening but it's so easy to talk to Jess and maybe she needs to know this for Matt’s sake. “The look he gets.” Frank says stiffly. “When he sees- or whatever- when I'm all busted up…” he trails off for a moment and coughs to clear his throat. “I need to be more careful.” He doesn't mention the sick ball of rage and horror that grows in the pit of his stomach when Matt himself rolls in with bloodied fists and a messed up face, mostly because he knows Matt needs to do what he does, and also because there's some things he doesn't need to tell Jess with words.  
“You just figure that out now?” Jess laughs. “Whatever man, if it takes Matt and his wounded duck face to get you to exercise some self preservation then so be it.” Frank shifts his feet.  
“You’re wearing the vest.” He says, not taking the bait.  
“Am not.” She pouts.  
“Out there I mean.” He chuckles softly at her playfulness, she's been so much lighter recently. Sometimes he forgets how young she is.  
“Yeah.” She admits, smiling at his amusement.  
“Good.” Is all he can say. For a moment Jess looks as if she's going to say something witheringly sarcastic, but then she just hugs him again, closer this time.

*

“Hey uh, Elektra? Did I wake you?” Frank wakes to Matt’s hushed voice, some distance away. He doesn't move yet, just waits and listens. Matt sounds strained, his voice might be shaking a little.  
“Oh, Karen? Sounds nice.” He laughs. “Yeah yeah I was in bed with Frank, he is my boyfriend, we do, surprisingly, sleep together.” Silence for a while.  
“Good. I'm glad you can still get drunk too.” He sounds a little choked. “Yeah, yeah I'm fine, really I just uh, just wanted to… you know. Check on you.” A silence broken by a wet sounding chuckle. “You and Karen take care of yourselves, ok? Sure. Sure. Goodnight Elektra. Morning, actually. Have a good one.” He hangs up and there's a distinctive sniff. Frank shoves himself up, a little stiffly.  
“She ok?” He says softly. It's dark but he can just about make up Matt with his knees drawn up to his chest, wedged in the corner behind the bed.  
“H-hey.” Matt drags the back of his hand over his eyes and shakes his head as if to clear it.  
“Dream?” Frank reaches out a hand and lays it back down on the sheets, extended towards Matt but not demanding. Matt needs to know he can stay right there if that's what he needs right now.  
“Yeah. Rooftop. You know I could hear… you know.” He finishes vaguely. Frank does know. Matt’s hands fidget, turning his phone over and over.  
“She tried to get me to kill, once, you know.” Matt says and Frank blinks.  
“She did?” He says carefully.  
“Mm. College.”  
“That why you broke up?” Matt laughs breathlessly.  
“Wasn't really a breakup, she failed her mission, I know that now. Still…” He shifts. “I think it was personal for her. She wanted me to be like her.” Frank nods.  
“I get that, yeah.” He says heavily. “Neither of us were much good at convincing you.” He smiles tightly. Can't find this funny. It still gets his guts churning.  
“Nah, you did.” Matt says bitterly, tipping his head forward to hide his eyes. It's a defence mechanism. Matt can't really tell how much his face shows.  
“What?” Frank says gently, trying not to let his voice show how disturbed he is by Matt’s words, watching him, his body language, shifting and uncomfortable as if the world is overwhelming him again.  
“You just had to die… had to die to convince me.” Matt loses his voice.

Frank gets a handle on the nausea as quickly as he can and manages to choke out some words, anything to stop Matt from crumbling.  
“Don't hate yourself for this, Matt.” Frank whispers. They haven't talked about it. Frank’s not sure he should be the one _to_ talk about it. Matt’s what, two whole transgressions aren't on the same scale as his own body count. The part of Matt that’s hurting now is so beaten out of recognisable shape in Frank that he can't begin to know if his advice would help. Still, he can't leave it hanging. Has to try at least. “Sometimes we just get compromised. The fact you… the fact it hurts and you, you stopped, didn't just keep going… my mistake was thinkin’ there was ever a line. Like once you're over it you're done. You still have a choice. You haven't gone anywhere you can't come back from, ain't that what you told me once?” He shifts, Matt’s shoulders have relaxed a bit. He keeps going, heartened by that. “Might not mean much comin’ from me.” Frank says, and smiles. “But what you did- or tried to do- it was natural. You were in shock and pain and you lashed out and… that's ok.” Matt lifts up his head and approximates his gaze in Frank’s direction. It's not so dark that he can't see his eyes, a bit too shiny right now but open and so beautiful he doesn't know what to do, as always. Just stares.  
“Thanks.” Matt says softly.

Matt doesn't move for a while but he visibly relaxes.  
“You say Elektra was with Karen?” Frank says and he nods.  
“And Trish.” Matt says smiling now. Frank chuckles.  
“Well ain't that a group for men to fear.” He says and it makes Matt laugh a little.

Matt moves with sudden urgency, crosses the space between them and wraps himself around Frank. His face squashes into his back and Frank can't tell if Matt’s hiding against him or if he's shielding Frank’s body from some abstract danger. Either way, Matt’s bare chest is flush with his back and he's warm, thick legs trapping Frank’s together. As sensations go, it's pretty great. Frank just wriggles a little to ease their position into a more comfortable one and tugs the comforter around their shoulders.

“Please stay safe.” Matt whispers. Frank nods.  
“I'll try my best.” He says softly. “How ‘bout you huh?” He grips Matt’s arms. “You goin’ anywhere?”  
“Not planning on it.” Matt says.   
“No-one ever plans it, Red.” Frank says, voice barely level. He presses himself back against Matt and shuts his eyes. Matt takes a few deep breaths as if to speak but each of them catch. Frank waits patiently for him to find the words, holding Matt's arms and skimming his thumbs back and forth.  
“Can't hear anyone I love die.” Matt’s voice is high and strained. Franks chest seems to burn and constrict. “Not again. I had two lucky breaks, but never again ok? I won't let it happen again.”  
“Wouldn't call what happened between you and Elektra a lucky break.” Frank tries to joke to cover the plunging sensation in his stomach but his voice has a croak to it and it almost fails him. He struggles to keep his mind off the words _anyone I love die…_ but he's sliding towards it even as he tries to slow down. “But uh, she's ok. Glad she's safe.” He stops because something is threatening to burst out of him and he's worried that whatever it is will hurt more than he can take right now. It's shaped like Maria and feels like it's been imminent for a while.  
“Hey, hey, I'm sorry I shouldn't have…” Matt rubs Frank’s chest and makes hushing sounds as if his heart can be calmed by petting and soft words like a startled animal. Frank hadn't even noticed it jump.  
“It's ok. I don't talk about her. Maybe I should.” Frank says, trying to show Matt with his voice that it's just a physical reaction, his mind just drifted a little close to the park. He leaves the ‘ _maybe not just now’_ hanging in the silence that follows because his throats feels as if it's closed up.

But it's not anger or panic or anything like that, it's just plain sadness. He just misses her, now that he's letting himself even picture her in his mind. it's a different sort of ache, not despair or hopelessness as he feared, as it was when he last let himself go here, in that diner with Karen. Then, he was so deep in that fog of bottomless, rolling rage that he’d surrendered himself to, that facing up to the grief couldn't pull any more hurt out of him. He's shocked to be able to picture her so vividly, the light of a sunset in her hair as she laughs, probably at her own joke. A memory he didn't even know he still had, having kept all of them locked down for so long.

He’s taken by surprise when he doesn't fall apart like he thought he would, if he ever let himself linger on them for too long, Maria and the kids. Maybe because there's a warm body holding him together, maybe because he can feel Matt’s hot breath against his shoulder blades, just as tight with the fear of losing him as Frank is. He hasn't forgotten them, and he's surprised by how relieved his is at that.

“She would have liked you.” Frank says softly. “Woulda given you a bunch of shit for bein’ such a fuckin’ altar boy, though.” Matt chuckles softly and lets Frank speak. “But she woulda liked your heart. And that little fiery part of you, that she would have _loved._ ” And he's done. That's all he can get out for now so he shifts to snuggle back down. Matt will get the signal.

*

"Why did you come for me?" Matt says quietly, feeling that Frank needs a subject change. He's tracing Frank's palm with his fingertips. "That night. On the rooftop." Frank swallows. Considers.  
"You saved my life. Twice by then. I know I didn't act like it but I did appreciate, you know, that I wasn't gonna be executed." Matt blinks.   
"You… Knew who I was?"   
"...Yeah didn't you..." Frank wheezes a laugh, edged with hysteria. He curls up a little tighter and pauses before he speaks again. "Half the reason I threw the trial." He says a little nervously. Matt is speechless, mouth hanging open for several seconds, and Frank's heart just starts to pick up again but then Matt starts laughing, low in his chest and then higher and breathless.   
"Please _please_ never tell Foggy, he'll kill me all over again." He splutters, and Frank joins him laughing. He sounds a bit relieved.

"What did you think of me, back then?" Matt flattens out Frank's hand, stroking the back of his fingers now. Frank shifts.   
"You really wanna know?" He says doubtfully.   
"Yeah why not?" Frank chuckles darkly.   
"Ok, if you're sure."   
"I'm sure."   
"Right. Well I thought you were kinda pathetic." Matt pauses.   
"Pathetic?" He says slowly. Frank huffs out a laugh.   
"I told you. Yeah I wasn't exactly self reflective at the time if you remember." He's doing his _charm_ voice, the shit.   
"I do remember that, yeah." Matt smiles.   
"So..." Frank squeezes Matt's arm with his free hand. "I hear there's this Boy Scout in my town, playin' at bein' Batman. Wrote you off as some goody two shoes idiot gonna get yourself killed. Next think I know you're aiming kicks at my face and it's a _problem_ , see?" He's stroking Matt's arm a little apologetically. "I was uh, less forgiving to stuff in my way and you were kinda determined to be there, so..." Matt sighs.   
"Why does everyone compare me to Batman."   
"It's the horns." Frank says seriously. "Anyway then I kinda started wanting to protect you and your pretty ass. Once I got over my own shit." Matt grins.   
"When did you notice my ass?"   
"The Irish." Frank mumbles, a bit apologetically.   
"What?" Matt splutters a laugh. "How were you noticing _anything?_ " Frank snorts.   
"Was the first nice thing I'd seen in months gimme a break."   
"Are you saying you imprinted on my ass?" Matt laughs.   
"No, I'm saying I was in a lot of _pain_ and your ass kept me going."   
"I bet you say that to all the boys."   
"But..." He squirms in Matt's arms. "We could try the imprinting thing later if you want, that sounds _nice_ ..."   
"Frank you have four broken ribs."   
"Five." He says with a grimace, then sighs. "Fair." 

*

Frank and Luke drink together regularly now, there's a sort of familiar rhythm between them, maybe there always was. They don't have a regular bar, Luke has _fans_ and the last thing Frank needs is a crowd and eyes on him. Luke does however have regular _drink_ s.  
“Are you always early?” Luke slides into the stool beside Frank who grins and slides his already ordered drink towards him.  
“You gonna complain?”  
“God no.” Luke mutters and knocks the whole thing back. He’s a big guy, but it’s a double and Frank can’t help but squint at him in mild surprise. He usually sips.  
“Bad day, huh?” Frank sips his own, unprovoked. Luke has a good five inches and probably 50 lbs on him at least and that’s not even taking into account any effect his powers have on his alcohol tolerance. Frank has no illusions that he can keep up with Luke. He waves at the barman.  
“Hey can I have another Jack and coke for my friend here? Man’s had a bad day.”  
“Anything for Luke Cage.” Frank tries not to wince and quickly takes stock of how presentable he looks right now. Keeps his face as loose and easy as he can. Hopefully the lack of facial bruising and the shirt- baby blue, a gift from Karen- will throw off any suspicious eyes. Luke doesn’t seem fazed. He just smiles and gives the man a little wave. He gets it on the house, of course he does, and wrangles one for Frank as well despite his protests.

A few drinks later (a few _more_ in Luke’s case) and he’s still keeping his mouth shut about the source of his bad day, sticking resolutely to idle chatter about Danny’s weird fitness regimes he's trying (unsuccessfully) to push on the others. His shoulders are still drooping and he’s drinking in a more of a Jessica than a Trish way. The two of them chuckle a bit at the image of Danny trying to get Jess to do _anything_ that involves wearing something other than her ratty old jeans, and then lapse into a silence that isn't uncomfortable, but certainly has something unsaid lurking in it.  
“Gonna talk about it?” Frank says mildly, twirls his ice around before taking another sip. Luke puts his glass down and sighs.  
“Nothin’ much to say.” He says. “Just uh, hits you sometimes. You know. You must do.” Luke says shortly and takes another drink. Frank considers. They share a good bit of common ground. After a moment he shakes his head and lets one side of his mouth tug up. He huffs a wry laugh, glancing sideways at him.  
“Which part?” He says, though he is pretty sure he can guess. Luke doesn't look at him, but he does incline his head a touch. They sit in silence for a bit, then Luke breathes out in a long, deep breath before he speaks.  
“Reva.” Luke’s voice is quiet. His head tips forward a few more inches, but Frank does his best not to look at him once he's glanced over to check the trademark stoicism is still holding. It is, but maybe his lips are pressed together a bit more heavily than usual and there's that grim crease beginning to appear between his eyebrows.  
“Mm.” Frank grunts in agreement. He watches the ice circuit he bottom of the glass a few times. “That I do know.” He tips his head back and finishes it, can't help but turn his head away from Luke slightly when he speaks again. “It a special date or did it just, y’know.”  
“Nah not really. Just, it's gettin’ colder. She liked this time of year best. We used to go for walks.” Luke stops short, sounds embarrassed, almost.

Frank drops his head and nods loosely a couple of times. He motions to the barman who smiles knowingly and starts them a couple more drinks.  
“Nah I get that.” Frank says. He opens his mouth and then hesitates. Should he… maybe this isn't the best idea... but then he's powering through. It didn't kill him last time. “Seein’ a scarf or something in a shop window, just thinking, she’d like that, like no time has passed and havin’ to, you know adjust to the fact she's not waiting for me at home. She was always waiting for me.” He gets the words out and nods when it's over, like he's acknowledging a milestone. Luke sits in silence for a moment.  
“I forget too.” Luke says heavily. “Like it was a dream and then, I have to remember it wasn't. But uh, I worry I'll forget other things. Details.” Luke glances sideways at Frank, who suddenly becomes conscious that his guard has dropped. His own face is doing a similar thing to Luke’s, a wistful little smile tinged with pain, only Luke’s doesn't look as crumpled as his feels. “Sorry.” Luke says, confirming Frank’s suspicions that he’s let everything spill right out of his face. “Bein’ a downer.” Luke takes a drink and Frank just chuckles.

“Do you _ever_ talk about it, though?” He says, tries to sound off-hand but there's nothing off-hand about it. They're both not exactly known for wearing their hearts on their sleeves.  
“No.” Luke’s voice is a gentle little rumble which kind of takes Frank by surprise because he was half expecting Luke to slam shut at his question.  
“Well.” Frank says with a weak sort of grin that is half comprised of that helpless manic energy he turns to when there's nothing else left. “Maybe we should, huh? If it helps. I ain't goin’ anywhere.”

So they talk, move off onto a table in the corner in case the conversation strays into revenge, a topic that neither of them are too concerned with avoiding. It's hard for Luke. Reva isn't who he thought she was, though he is still sure she did fall for him, really. Almost sure anyway. Luke encourages, helps, whatever, when Frank talks about Maria, the kids. It's like they're holding the weight between them for whichever of them is speaking. Accessing these memories is like clearing out a closet stuffed with precious possessions Frank has only sparingly opened since he crammed them all in there to keep them safe from himself. The rage keeps flaring up in Frank’s chest like an old wound that maybe Frank can live with if it never heals quite right. Maybe he doesn't want it to. He can see the same in Luke, and though his is a different shape, it makes it easier to keep it stowed under the fondness and all the things they’ll never get to say and do.

Frank surprises both of them by yanking Luke into a brief, gruff hug before they part ways. Luke lets him which is even more of a surprise, doesn't laugh him off or shove him away like the drunk fool he is. He even brings an arm up and hugs back for a moment, one quick, steadying grip. They’re both standing in the street having stayed out long into the night. Both lighter judging by the feeling in Frank’s chest and by the way the feeling looks a lot like the look on Luke’s face.

When Frank gets back to Matt’s apartment- _their_ apartment now, really, it feels more close and real than it's ever felt before. Matt can tell that something is different, but Frank isn't lying when he says that nothing is wrong. Matt seems to realise that he needs it, and just lets Frank wrap his arms around his waist and bury his face against his warm abdomen. Frank lies there with Matt’s pulse and weird little alive-noises against his probably almost unbearably rough cheek and tries to stay awake for as long as he can, which isn't, in the end, very long.

*

God he looks so good. Frank can hardly keep his breath straight. He imagines Matt can hear it, smell it, what it does to Frank to let his eyes run over his body, his whole torso solid and smooth and... He has to reach out when Matt's back in range of the bed, skin a little chilled from being briefly out from under the blankets. His fingertips touch first and then he's stroking, staring and amazed by the tingling in his hands, as if this is the first time he's ever touched him. Matt's kneeling on the bed in front of him, mouth curled just a little, moving his head at the sensation of Frank's slow fingers, tracing his abs, taking his waist between his palms. Frank can't get tired of the way it tapers in just slightly under his ribs. He rubs his thumbs up and down and sighs, shoulders buzzing with a kind of pleasant charge. Lets his forehead head fall against Matt's chest.

Matt runs his hands into Frank's hair, such a familiar action now that it takes some of Frank's tension with it. He trails his hands up and down Matt's body now, shoulder-blades to the small of his back.  
"Mmm..." A soft, lazy sound from Matt, and he certainly knows what that does. Just in case it's not clear, Frank slips his fingers under the waistband of Matt's shorts. Not far, just to feel the top of the curve of his ass. Lifts his head up to kiss. Matt pushes back with his lips, strong but soft, and Frank runs his hands down to cup a cheek in each hand. Matt groans and Frank grips the firm flesh, the sound shooting vibrations through Frank's tongue. Matt shifts closer to get his legs around Frank and his hands on Frank's shoulders, and Frank wraps his arms around his torso, Matt is seated on his lap, snug and warm and close. Frank lets out a long breath. He draws another in, slow, to smell Matt's skin.   
"You ok?" Matt says, pulling back and dropping his hands to rest gently against Frank's ribs. Frank splays his hands across Matt's back, keeping him close.   
"I'm fine. Nearly healed." He says, and Matt cracks a smile.   
"And there's the truth. You're blushing, I can feel it." He moves a hand to Frank's face.   
"You're blushin' all the way down your chest can you feel that?" Frank touches it. Matt chuckles, wriggles and Frank feels his dick rub against his own through their boxers.   
"Hn." Is the only sound he lets himself make, and Matt cuts it off with a kiss, anyway.   
  
Frank runs his palms up Matt's back and supports him with his elbows, rocking forward to lay Matt on his back. Not exactly one of Matt's smooth ninja manoeuvres but it does the job. Matt's still got his legs wrapped around Frank, laid out under him like an underwear model or some shit. He breathes out a sigh and runs his hands down Matt's sides. Leans down, supporting himself with his left arm, gripping Matt's pec with his other, kisses, trails his lips along his jaw, down his neck, across his chest.   
  
"Frank..." Matt says carefully. Frank pushes himself up and sits between Matt's legs. Frank nuzzles his knee, running a hand up and down the outside of Matt's thigh.   
"I..." Matt looks almost bashful, twitches his head around, bites his lip. "Can you... I mean I want..." Frank waits patiently, playing absently with the skin stretched tight over Matt's knee. He would probably be content to sit like this forever if that was an option. "Do you want to..." He trails off with a frown.   
"Not so hot on the dirty talk, huh?" Frank rumbles, crawling over Matt to kill that uncomfortable expression with kisses. He trails them over Matt's jaw, cheekbones, nose, until he's smiling again. "You want me inside you, yeah?" Frank whispers it but says it clear and straightforward, remembering how Matt, even desperate for something to drown out everything else, hadn't gone into much more detail than 'fuck me'. "That what we're getting at here or am I way off base?" He's smiling against Matt's cheek just so he's sure he can feel it. Matt makes a noise that's half chuckle, half whine, pushes his hips upwards against Frank's.   
"God yes." He says breathlessly. "If you want to I'm... I want you to, please..." The words slip out of his grasp again and he's just opening his legs wider and breathing heavily with anticipation.   
"Ok, well I got some..."   
"In the cabinet." Matt says quickly. Frank barks out a surprised laugh.   
  
Frank leans down to reach the lower cabinet drawer and sits up again, but the angle yanks his ribs. He suppresses a sound, but Matt's there with a furrowed brow and a knowing smile. He puts his hand against Frank's almost nonexistent bruises.   
"Hey, hey maybe we shouldn't, hmm? Just..."   
"I'm fine Matt..."   
"Lying." Frank hisses out an irritated breath. He's _barely_ lying, really. He's lifted up Cupcake a few times in the last few days, he’s been working out with Danny basically regularly. Granted, Danny's workouts used to be a lot more about Danny handing him his own ass but recently have been more about Danny putting him through his paces which honestly has been just as efficient. He's not out of shape exactly, but by his own standards, the recovery time has made him softer than he's used to.   
  
"Ok." He concedes, nodding. "Fine, maybe I shouldn't uh, go too hard... I don't wanna _stop_ . What if we just keep it gentle..."   
"Could I uh, could I..." Matt is flushing again. Frank shifts closer, drops his head to kiss along his neck, puts his hands up to touch his shoulders. Runs his hands up and down his arms. Matt puts his own arms around Frank and lifts his head. "I could... ride you..." He breathes, right in Frank's ear, reaches down, trails his fingertips over Frank's cock. The whisper runs the length of his spine.   
"Goddamn, you could get me coming just from that." Frank rumbles. Kisses his neck, and reaches for the lube. He guides Matt down without lifting him this time. He lies out, gets Matt's thigh against his shoulder and wraps his arm around it.   
  
"Right, I ain't done this for... years actually, wasn't somethin' Maria was into so, it's been a _while_ ..."   
"Hey it's alright." Matt cuts off his trailing rambling and smiles. "I've never done this before, remember."   
"Mm, well, you're gonna have to be patient with me." Frank says softly. He sits up and squeezes some lube onto his fingers, slicks them probably more than is entirely necessary, and moves his hand to the top inside of Matt's thigh, just to give him some physical signal he's getting close. Sometimes Matt's senses get overwhelmed with sensation and the last thing Frank wants to do is surprise him now.   
  
He touches very gently, climbing his fingertips upwards, Matt opens his legs and twitches his hips up to meet him. Eager or not, Matt's a little more tense than Frank would like.   
  
Frank makes a few little calming sounds and strokes him at the waist, just gently brushing his first two fingers against his hole with his other hand, letting him get used to Frank's presence down there. Matt's done _this_ before, but the memory of his first time is still a little uncomfortable for him. He’s barely spoken to Frank about it, but from what he can tell, he hadn’t quite come to terms with the whole ‘bisexual’ thing at that point, probably tried to push himself too fast and ended up beating himself up over it after. Matt might be over that now but the association is still there. Frank has been determined to make new, guilt-free memories. He leans up to kiss him as he runs the tip of his forefinger around his hole, turning his head to lick inside his mouth as he pushes it gently inside him. He's very slow, cautious, feeling Matt's body flex under his. He pushes it to the second knuckle and moves it gently, twisting a little, easing it in and out.   
  
Frank's lips get absent minded and Matt kisses him encouragingly shifting himself against Frank and making low little comfortable sounds. Frank moves his other hand down to grip Matt's hip and noses at his jaw, pushing his finger all the way inside while Matt moans lightly.   
"Ahh..." Matt breathes and Frank slips in and out, rotating it and sort of cooing absently, face pressed against Matt's as he adds a second finger and gently eases it inside. And now it’s uncharted territory.   
"Doin' ok there?" Frank rumbles in Matt's ear and he shivers comfortably.   
"God yes, I didn't know how good this- I'm so- uhn..." His words are breathless and dissolve as Frank slowly works at him.   
  
Somehow this level of trust feels different. Matt's open to him, relaxed under his hands as he massages. Three fingers and Matt is writhing slightly, panting, cock hard and pressing hotly against Frank's stomach.   
"I'm ready- I'm ready- please-" Matt sounds wrecked, can't seem to keep still. Frank withdraws and Matt swaps their places, slides Frank out of his boxers with an eagerness that gets Frank's cock twitching. Frank rolls on a condom with hands that are just about steady, and slicks himself down while Matt turns his head to that angle that means he's paying very close attention. His eyes are bright, half lidded. He climbs on all in a rush, positions himself and Frank rests his hands lightly on his hips.   
  
There's a moment when Matt is all lined him and ready, Frank's tip just touching his hole, Matt panting with anticipation, and then he starts to sink down.   
  
Matt opens around his cock, smooth and slow, and Frank can't contain himself, lets out a whine and holds Matt's hips. Matt breathes in little breathless groans, flushed, mouth open and face pink, slowly taking Frank inside him inch by inch. It's hot, overwhelming. When Frank is all in, Matt shifts a little and Frank actually gasps. Matt chuckles and does it again, rocking forward just a touch. Frank feels like he's going to burst, so close to Matt, thighs pressed flush against his sides.   
"You ok there?" Matt says, voice soft if noticeably shaking with sensation.   
"Can't you tell?" Frank mumbles, so drunk on Matt's proximity that he can hardly do anything but hold him and breathe and let his hips twitch weakly under Matt's.   
"You're too worked up for me to pick up on pain." Matt strokes his waist and Frank has never loved him as much as he does in this moment.   
"I'm good Matt, god I'm so much better than good..." he can't articulate, so he just twitches his hips gently upwards just to press the pressure of their bodies a little tighter and grins up at him like a fool. He lets his breath dissolve into a sigh and Matt moans softly, face glowing with the lightest smile he's ever seen on him.   
  
Matt's face is slack with pleasure as he starts to move, gently at first, then as Frank groans out the closest he can get to encouragement, Matt starts up a rhythm.   
"Fuck..." Frank mumbles, pushing his hips upwards in time with Matt's downstrokes and winning a string of deep moans broken only by Matt's tight whispers of "Yes- please- yes--" as Frank surrenders his near-silence to a long groan. He opens his eyes to see Matt above him. He looks like an angel, hair ruffled, biting his lips pink and writhing a little as he moves in rhythm with Frank. Fuck, Matt has no business being so goddamn gorgeous, he's gonna drive him right to that edge before he can help himself. Frank's chest seems to expand and glow and he grips Matt's rolling hips a little more tightly, pulls him just a little bit closer.   
  
And it's _great_ god, couldn't be better, he's moaning and trying not to laugh at himself, because he sounds more wrecked than Matt and that's a _lot_ . He bucks his hips a little harder and then settles into a rhythm when Matt responds with _loud_ encouragement. Frank releases one hand from Matt's hip and wraps it around his shaft. Matt writhes, grabs Frank's shoulders and locks his thighs and Frank takes it as an invitation, thrusting up into him over and over, jerking him in time with it.   
"How's that feel Matt, huh?" He mumbles, barely got the breath for talking really, but Matt smiles loosely and whimpers in response, eyes shut tight, so Frank doesn't stop. "You feel so good, Red, so good, you gotta be close, huh?"   
"Y-yes- yes-" Matt whispers, clenched fingers twitching their hold on Frank's shoulders, hot and slick with their sweat.   
“You gotta be real close, takin’ me like this, I'm so deep- just wanna keep goin’ at you like this forever, so fuckin’ hot…” Frank shoots his hips up just that little big harder, sweating, body alive with it, lit up from the inside, skin bumping a little.  
“Like that--” Matt gasps. “Just like that-”  
"Tha's it, c'mon," Frank doesn't let up, pumping at Matt's cock just as hard as he goes, Matt's breaths coming ragged and heavy. "Come for me, yeah? Let go, I got you, I got you..."   
  
Frank holds onto Matt's uncontrollably shuddering body as he comes into his hands with just short of a shout. It sounds like Frank's name though so distorted with pleasure as he twitches and gasps that Frank can hardly tell. Frank works him through it, reaching his own climax as Matt makes little incoherent happy sounds, body tensing and untensing under his hands as he becomes lax and his back starts to bend towards Frank. Frank's thrusts become unsteady and all it takes is one breathless little blissful murmur of "Frank..." from Matt to send him over the edge. He holds Matt's hips with both hands and lets his head go back, Matt feeling it and shifting against him and getting Frank groaning weakly through the whole thing because _fuck_ Matt knows just how to go above and beyond sometimes.   
  
Frank shifts to slip out of him as gently as he can and quickly disposes of the condom before Matt inevitably sinks towards him and covers Frank with his body, wrapping his arms around as much of him as he can reach. His face is buried against Frank's neck before he appears to get his bearings back a little and remember the ribs, because he quickly shifts to put his weight to his side instead. Frank puts his arms around him to make it clear he's ok and he doesn't want Matt to go too far away. He tangles their legs together, Matt's muscles warm and hard against his from their little workout.   
"Whoa." Matt mumbles against his neck.   
"Uh huh." Frank agrees.  
“Dirty talk’s new.” Matt says, lips tugging into a smile against Frank’s pulse. He shrugs.  
“Mouth’s usually otherwise occupied.” Frank grins.  
“Not a complaint.” Matt murmurs, all tuckered out it seems, and soft against Frank’s side.  
“Stay right here.” Frank says because he's not paying much attention to what he's saying, loose-tongued with after-glow.  
“Try and make me move.” Matt says and presses his lips against his skin.


	16. Chapter 16

Microchip isn't hard to track down once Frank gets to looking, he knows the guy well enough. Frank was always good at that sort of thing but he's only gotten better at it with help from Karen and Jess. When Micro gets back to his crappy little hideout, all washed blue with screen light and surprisingly easy to break into, he can't help but step out of the darkness into his path.   
"Hello David." And that he got from Matt.

Gratifyingly, Micro jumps before he forces himself neutral.   
"Frank." He says, can't keep the surprise out of his voice though it sounds as if he's trying. "You're alive." He seems to blurt out. Frank chuckles darkly. He advances towards him, which he's told is pretty intimidating when he's in full costume, grabs him by the lapels before he can back out of reach and slams him against the wall.   
"Died again, actually, got better." He growls. "No thanks to you."   
"I didn't know-  _ fuck  _ \- I didn't know they knew who you were until it was too late-"   
"They knew because of you." Frank says and makes it clear that it isn't a question. Micro pants and his eyes slide around the room as if searching for help that isn't coming. He doesn't confirm it, but Frank doesn't need him to. "So you let my identity slip and you couldn't even pick up your fucking phone?"   
"They didn't contact me-"   
"I  _ heard _ them find your number on my fucking burner phone David so don't try that shit."

Micro laughs a little manically. The part of the fear he was playing up drops now Frank has called him out on it. He's still scared, as he should be, but it's not nearly so visible now.

"Come on Frank." He says breathlessly. "It's a dirty job, right? We cut out bits of ourselves, cut off contacts when we have to. You knew how it would work going in."   
"Yeah well I'm done putting myself on the line for people like you."   
"Your new friends are no less manipulative than I ever was, Frank!"   
"They're more like  _ family _ , David, if you can remember what that means."   
"Maybe  _ you _ shouldn't be seeking it out after what happened last time you had one-" Micro says and Frank would be lying if he said he hadn't been waiting for an excuse like that.   
  
He directs a sharp cross into Micro's left cheekbone. Not hard enough to knock him out but enough to send him tumbling down the wall like a sack of potatoes.   
"You used to have more fight than this, David." Frank tuts and squats to yank him back to his feet and slam him against the wall again. "What's the matter? Get too used to sending dumb idiots off to do your dirty work?" David yells and tries to pull away but Frank pins him across the neck and shoulders with one forearm and leans into his space. "Shh, shh..." he chuckles. "Thought you’d make this a lot more difficult."

"What? Threatening me? What is this, your pathetic excuse for getting your power back?" Micro splutters with a defiant edge to his words again.   
"More about taking yours." Frank says briskly. He presses his arm harder just to hear him choke, even as Micro struggles uselessly. "You're so sure I've changed for them." He drops his voice to a low growl. "If you approach me or anyone I love again, if I so much as sniff you in my town, you'll be testing that theory with your life, understand?" Frank releases him and steps back, turns away. 

Micro coughs on the ground and Frank can hear him scrambling to shove himself upright.   
"You're gonna regret this Frank. My way was always your way. You started this. You not gonna finish it, that's your mistake." Frank knows him well enough to know that he's trying to provoke him into a fight that he will not win and Frank grimaces.   
"Careful David." Frank says quietly. "Don't get self destructive now. You don't have anyone left to stop you." And he leaves without another word.

*

Frank does suspect now, a little reluctantly, that everything wrong with him probably started long before that day in the Park, just through talking it out with Jess. It's still a surprise when he wakes up from dirt and sand and shouting and gunfire, fighting with the sheets.   
  
Matt's there like some kind of goddamn therapy dog. Cupcake is asleep in the other room, but Matt- who has managed to become all shoulder when nobody was paying attention- wraps him in his arms, cushioning his sleep-weakened struggles. Frank can hear himself protesting and fighting as if from some distance, only barely aware that it’s Matt holding him. He doesn't know how to stop fighting him, still neck deep in blood and screaming.

"C'mon Frank, with me, come on sweetheart." Matt speaks against the side of his head and Frank drags himself out of the panic and back to Matt like a dying man dragging himself to water.   
Frank twitches and grunts his way back to reality, clutching at Matt's arms. He gets a hold on himself, forces his limbs to be still and it miraculously works.

"God." Frank mumbles, relieved. Matt releases him and touches his hair, rubs at the back of his head at the base of his skull.   
"Park?" He asks softly. Frank shudders.   
"War." He croaks.   
"Oh." Matt says, draws back and tilts his head.   
"I know." Frank huffs out a laugh. "Didn't know I... y'know."

Matt just holds him for a long time and Frank lets his eyes fall closed because the dream is clinging to him like water and... well he's not so happy to admit this, to say the least. It's not looping, not exactly, he can mostly keep his head above water with that now he's less physically compromised, but it's similar. Matt holds him in silence for a long time.   
"Sounded brutal." Matt says eventually, presses his forehead to Frank's.   
"Mmm." Frank agrees.   
"Sounds like the sort of thing to have nightmares about." Matt says gently. Matt knows all about nightmares. He wakes sometimes, sobbing and breathless and pawing weakly at his own heart. Frank knows to shift himself in top of him and hold his scrabbling fingers still in his until he's awake. He reaches to stroke his hair and Matt hums in approval. He stays like that for a long time, lying half on top of Matt, his thick arms and shoulders warm and close like a shelter, legs tangled together. He should feel safe, he can feel it just out of his reach, somewhere just beyond the old compulsion to watch the door.

"I uh, killed a lot of people." He says, feeling like maybe if he shrinks himself enough he can disappear in Matt's arms. "So uh. Shoulda known it'd come back, y'know?"   
"Nothing to be ashamed of." Matt breathes. Frank concentrates on the comfort of Matt's body, close and warm. He clings to it hard, mind phasing uncontrollably in and out of desperate violence, blood in his eyes and nose, gunshots, crunching flesh and bone. Matt runs his palm up and down his back. Padding pawsteps draw closer and Frank chuckles just before Cupcake jumps up. Matt would usually complain about the dog being on the bed but he curls up against Frank's back and lets out a little doggy sigh. Matt laughs and shakes his head but doesn't object.   
  
"Y'know." Frank says when he's sure his voice will be made to cooperate. "When I first got this dog right here." He pauses, takes a breath. "I got him a ball." He shifts onto his side a little so he can reach to pat Cupcake's head. "He uh, he'd never had anything like that before. He'd play fetch but uh, mostly he'd just sort of run around, throwin' it up in the air and chasin' it." Frank says softly. "So he uh, every night he put it on his bed- I mean I'd just got some old rug folded up for him, none of this fancy shit Jess showed up with, an' uh..." Frank shifts onto his back and gives Cupcake's ears a scratch. He lifts his head up and rests it on Frank's chest so he can get a good scratch around the neck. "He'd sleep on it, y'know, so he'd know it'd be there when he woke up." Cupcake closes his eyes, looking for all the world like his mouth is open in a big grin. "Smart boy, huh?" Frank mumbles.  
“That a metaphor?” Matt teases, smile in his voice as he nuzzles Frank’s hair. “I'm your ball?”  
“Don't read so much into it, Red.” Frank half laughs gruffly, and shuts his eyes again, holding onto the safety, cocooned in softness. 

*

Matt can hear Frank’s still not right, heart still going like he's in mortal danger. Matt shifts them both to spoon him, strokes his hair and kisses the back of his neck and tries to get as much of his body pressed safely against as much as Frank's sweating, shuddering one as he can.   


They lie in silence for some time. Frank's muscles relax a little. He's still shaking a bit but his heart rate isn't scaring the shit out of Matt now. His hands have unclenched.

Matt doesn't have to tell Frank he's getting worked up so much these days, he can often catch it himself if his mind is steady enough.  
“Shit. I missed that.” Frank says softly.  
“Mm?”  
“When I get… you know how I get, it's easier to come back when you're here. I can always get back to you.” It's the sort of confession Matt still doesn't expect, even with all they've been though. He doesn't know what to say for a while.  
“I need you to find me.” He mumbles against the back of his head. “I get lost in everything.”  
“Well you ain't allowed ok?” Frank reaches back and strokes his hair, voice suddenly intense. “You stay here, with me.”

Frank weaves his hands into Matt's, both of them, and squeezes a little.   
"You know." He says quietly. "I'm never gonna be ok." Matt's stomach jolts and he kisses the back of Frank's head urgently, buries his face against his hair.   
"You're ok. Better than ok, you hear me?"   
"I mean." Frank says stubbornly. "I'm always gonna be carrying it around with me. All of it."   
"I know."   
"I know you know." Frank sighs and squeezes his hands. When he speaks again the words are edged with sudden desperation, as if something has ruptured open inside of him and a deep worry he's been harbouring for some time is just spilling out. "But I can't promise you anything, I can't promise the meds will work, I can't, I can't promise I'll live to see 45, I..." Matt feels him shut his eyes, pull in a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't promise you that I won't fuck it all up." He swallows. "Again." The word comes out in a choked mumble.   
"God, I love you so much." Matt lets his voice waver and break and wraps his arms more tightly around Frank, clinging to his hands as he does, as if he can keep Frank safe from his own body and mind.   
"People do all sorts of horrible shit to people they love." Frank whispers. "Don't make it right."   
"Not you Frank, never you. What makes you think I'm so much better than you? Who am I to... Frank, you're not a monster, you deserve...to be happy and... Frank if I can give that to you for, for any time at all..." He disentangles one hand and runs it through Frank's hair. Shit, it's so soft. Frank twitches but the tension in his neck and shoulders lifts a little. Matt wishes he could make him believe it completely, believe he's safe and let Matt trust him. "And you can try. And I'm here for you when you get on the meds, I'll help any way I can, if they don't work we’ll figure it out without them. And any time Frank,  _ any _ time is good." He chuckles darkly then, the sound slipping out unbidden. "Am I any more likely to make 45?" He mutters, kisses Frank's neck. "I'll try to get there if you do." Frank's breathing falters at that and he rolls over to face Matt.   
  
He leans forward to kiss and Matt turns his head a little to fit their lips together. It's soft, Frank's mouth is always soft. The kiss is like a warm blanket, and when Frank breaks away, Matt realises his own eyes are wet. How long has he been crying? Frank reaches to brush the tears from Matt's face.   
"I didn't say it to make you sad." He says quietly. "Just... Don't wanna drag you down with me is all."   
"Frank..." Matt presses his forehead against Frank's and holds him tightly. He just doesn't get it, Matt wants desperately for him to understand, because Matt remembers when Frank was the only warm and living thing in the world. "I don't say it but... I should, listen to me for a second ok?" Frank nods. "You're good for me. Since we... You're solid ground, Frank, you're what I think I've always  _ needed _ . When I'm with you, it all makes sense."   
"Matt..." Frank sounds strangled and Matt shakes his head.   
"No, listen, I'm not good, not like you think I am, and I never had myself together like I feel like you thought I did. I was losing myself, Frank, that's why I reached out to Jess and the others, I couldn't do it on my own anymore. I knew we had that in common. I thought maybe, maybe if I could throw you a lifeline... I thought you might be drowning because I was. I'm not who you think I am, ok? I'm not  _ better _ than you, you're not... corrupting me or whatever it is you're so afraid of. You pulled me out of a dark place, you did that, and I'm not talking about the tunnels Frank." Matt wants to reach out and feel what Frank's face is doing but he's too afraid of what he might find there. He just lies there, feeling his strangely rigid arms around him.   
  
It seems like an eternity has passed when Frank chuckles, or maybe it was no time at all.   
"You done?" He says, trying for amused but his voice has a choked edge.   
"Think so, yeah." Matt says, only realising how wobbly his voice has become now he's finished.    
"That was uh, that was dramatic."   
"And as a man who modelled himself on an embodiment of death itself you are if nothing else an expert in all things dramatic." Matt's sniffing and smiling through tears now. "Even by my standards."   
"Matt..." Frank's voice is almost a whine and it breaks and he's kissing Matt all over his face, soft little nuzzling ones. "You are good." He mumbles. "You're so good." And he loses his words, he always does when he's being affectionate, just presses his face against Matt's and Matt listens to his breaths hitch and stumble with everything he can't articulate.

After a while, he chuckles.  
“Used to be so good with words, y’know. Always had what I needed to say. Was easy.”  
“You still are.”  
“Sometimes maybe.” He noses at Matt’s cheek. “Think it's sorta like, putting yourself wide open, an’... well that don't come so easy for me these days.” He pauses, strokes Matt’s hair and kisses him again, absently. “S’easier with you. Has been from the start.” He takes a deep breath.  
“I think I'm gonna work construction.” Frank says, all in a rush like he's been waiting to tell Matt for a while.  
“Oh.” Matt lifts his head up and shifts to look at him. “That… that's great.” He smiles widely and leans into Frank’s chest to kiss his cheek. Frank smiles, slightly bashful maybe. He rubs absently at the short hair at the back of Matt’s neck.  
“Routine. Worked for you. Besides I should start pulling my weight around here.”  
“You know it doesn't matter. We’ll figure it out.”  
“Maybe, anyway, I’m gonna make something for once.” He says, sounding sure and ready. “Know what I'm doing. Had a Saturday job as a kid.”  
“Really?” Matt says happily, tracing the back of his hands. Frank does a little deflating laugh and shakes his head.  
“Is that so hard to believe?”  
“No.” Matt says after a little consideration. “No not really.”

*

It's not  _ officially _ a "congrats on your new job Frank" party, it's officially a belated drink for the reopening of Nelson & Murdock. Frank knows full well it’s only because he would berate everyone for that. It kind of is though.   
  
They all arrive at the bar (that Trish picked, Foggy tried but was overruled by pretty much everyone but Matt and Karen) and it's nice. The sort of place Maria would have scoffed at but secretly liked, kinda arty and borderline pretentious. The sort of place Frank and a buddy would have slipped off to before he was married and it was still the law to be discrete.   
  
Jessica and Luke seem determined to get Frank to keep up with them.   
"C'mon Castle, you're twice my size how hard can it be?" Jess says altogether too loudly. Jess actually  _ isn't _ half his size these days thanks to Danny and his habit of pulling everyone in on his gym habits at least a little. Foggy and Trish 'rescue' him with a neon pink cocktail and wedge themselves on each side of him. Apparently it has some kind of pink Tequila in it. Frank can't taste the tequila and he doesn't understand the pop culture reference it's named after, but he's only grumbling about it for show as he sips the sugary whatever out of its jam jar glass and watches Malcolm teach Danny how to play beer pong.   
  
Danny is unsurprisingly very good at beer pong. They establish a quarter-pint rule for a one-on-one winner stays on, loose sort of arrangement. He soon engages Claire in a furious battle, mediated by Malcolm who only has to correct Danny on the rules a couple of times as they go. They're all taking up a corner on the second floor, more or less crowding several tables and a little dance floor to themselves. Frank watches Matt, brow furrowed, follow the proceedings with his mouth set slightly open in concentration. Frank glances at Elektra to find that she appears to be listening to the story Trish and Foggy are taking turns to yell over the music, only her eyes flick to the table with that creepy focus she gets in her eyes sometimes.   
"Hey Red." He says, keeping his voice a low murmur that won't carry over the music and the chatter for anyone but Matt. "Think you can do that?" Matt turns his head to approximate a glance in Frank's direction and his lips quirk up one side. He nods once.   
"You're gonna hustle 'em?" Frank smirks and Matt's face breaks into something close enough to a devil-smile that Frank struggles to choke back a laugh.   
  
After defeating Claire followed Foggy, both of whom put up a good fight, Danny is predictably caught in a furious battle with Trish that has him actually having to down a few before he gets her. Karen is...  _ deadly _ , and Jess has been buying her drinks all night so she's further gone than Danny before they even get started. Frank leans forward in his seat, own drink forgotten. Danny has  _ terrible _ tolerance, Frank had forgotten, and is steadily beaten back by Karen's absolute precision, until he can barely throw straight. She beats Jess after that, then Luke, who is only  _ slightly _ better than Jess coordination-wise (Jess is awful, Frank's told her before she's lucky she can basically fly because she has enough trouble aiming a punch let alone a damn projectile). Frank laughs and waves off Karen's challenge. Foggy tries his luck and inevitably fails again.   
  
"How about it, Matt?" Karen grins. "Now you're not using the eyes as an excuse to rub up against me playing pool don't you owe me a game?" There's a chorus of 'Oooooh's and Matt chuckles sheepishly as he gets to his feet.   
"Ok, ok I definitely deserved that one." Their area of the bar is private enough for Matt to not bother to pretend he can't get to the table they have set up.   
  
Matt beats Karen as easily as Karen just beat Foggy.   
"Hey! You waited until we were all drunk, no fair!" Karen can hardly speak for laughing which is fair because Matt is being fiendishly cocky about the whole situation, which means...   
"Hey I saw this coming and I swear, as his nurse I have been paying  _ very _ close attention to this man's alcohol consumption and can conclude, he is  _ pretty drunk _ ." Claire pipes up.   
"Fine, Trish you have to beat him, do it for me." Karen says. They fist bump as they swap. Trish has Matt downing a few but he still beats her, being a showy little shit about the whole thing, pretending to look the other way and grinning like an idiot. By the time Danny gets up (dubiously steady on his feet) Matt is just beginning to play kinda wonky. Matt's occasional dumbass comments (Wow Danny you're so fast I can't even see you-) (hey Foggy you gotta tell me how red he's got right now, I never beat him at anything) Matt's starting to sound...   
"Hey Foggy..." Frank leans over to hiss. "Is his accent..."   
"Oh my god." Foggy laughs in sudden delight. "You've never seen Matt get drunk enough to turn into a stereotype holy shit, just listen, I think his dad had a really thick accent but the nuns and college like trained him out of it but get him drunk enough and..." Foggy giggles as Matt whoops something with a particularly heavy drawl.   
"This is classic I'm going to film it." Jess mutters to Frank's left.   
  
Matt's reign of insufferability ends when Karen challenges him to a rematch. A few rounds in, the spins have caught up with him and he's genuinely lost all sense of where the table is, let alone the cups. He bumps into it at the wrong angle three times before Karen moves around the table to hug him and laugh.   
"Not so bad for a blind man but I think we just found your kryptonite, my friend." She says to him. Foggy jumps up to the rescue.

  
"Hey- Frank-" Matt says as Foggy brings him back to his seat. He grabs in the wrong direction and Frank has to lean out of his seat to redirect him. "Oh- there you are- you smell like dog." Matt smiles stupidly and trips right over a chair leg. He lands on Frank's lap, laughing too hard to get back up again.   
"Frank, I  _ lost _ ." Matt grins, though he doesn't seem too upset about it.   
"You lost so hard you neutralised your own superpowers and stopped being able to cheat at being blind!" Foggy from the sounds of him thinks this is the funniest thing that has ever happened.   
"You're bad at hustling." Frank tells him. "Everyone already figures you can probably do it so you could at least  _ pretend _ to suck at it to start with."   
"He's a show-off." Foggy says. “Can’t help himself.”   
"I feel like I'm upside down." Matt says with the air of someone just pointing out something of mild interest. He sways and Frank wraps an arm around his waist to keep him in place.   
  
"Hey Cage." Jess knocks back the rest of whatever the hell she's been drinking and gets to her feet. "Think you got what it takes?"   
"Oh you're on, Jones." Luke gets up and takes position at the far end of the table.   
  
As it turns out, super-strength and precision don't exactly go well together, not when both parties have had  _ way  _ too much to drink.  Over and over, Luke and Jess misjudge and send the ball pinging half way across the bar to be chased and retrieved by an apologetic Karen and Foggy, half clambering over the unfortunate stranger to get under their table. Frank laughs so hard he can't breathe, he  _ might _ just be breaking his ribs all over again. Matt is also half doubled over with loose giggles and Frank has a fight on his hands to keep them both on their seat.   
  


Luke and Jessica buy everyone a drink to calm them down, and then, very slowly, Elektra gets to her feet and moves to the table. Frank smells  _ danger _ .  
“Hey, Castle.” Elektra tilts her head and grins lazily, eyes trained on him like a rifle scope. “Think you can take me?” Frank chuckles.  
“Take you  _ where _ ?”  
“Come now, not afraid of a little…  _ competition? _ ” And she looks right at Matt, the dirtiest grin twisting her plush looking lips. Frank’s just drunk enough to bite.  
“What we playing for?”  
“How about a kiss?” Elektra says and waves a hand at Matt. And yeah. That just about does it.  
“Hey hey hey, as best friend, I have to object--” Foggy starts, but Matt covers his mouth with one hand (he actually covers his nose first and has to move it down).  
“Me?” Matt looks sort of innocently confused.  
“Er.” Frank says but then Matt is giggling so much that Frank has to hold onto him to stop him sliding from his lap. “You want to play to kiss  _ me? _ ”  
“Foggy, help.” Frank says in an undertone.  
“Buddy you’re on your own.” Foggy says from behind Matt’s hand.  
“Frank you better win.” Matt tells him. “Elektra mostly drinks Tequila, do you know what that stuff is like for me? It’s  _ gross.” _ He adds unnecessarily, Tequila is bad enough  _ without _ super senses.  
“You’re ok with this?” Frank mutters. Matt just laughs uncontrollably.  
“It’s  _ hilarious _ I feel like Maid Marian.”  
“You were  _ so _ raised by nuns.” Elektra says.  
“Guess it can't hurt.” Frank grunts with the effort of shifting Matt to Foggy’s lap instead. Everyone “ooooh”s again, because of course they do.

Elektra moves like a snake or something, all focus and creepy head swaying. He doesn't let it put him off though, just steps up to the table and lets his breathing drop into that low, practiced place. He's gonna need every edge he can get against an undead ninja.

Both of them put away their first two rounds, and then the first one hits and Frank  _ misses _ . Elektra doesn't. Jeeze. Gonna have to be more careful.  
“What’s the matter Frank?” Elektra says, eyes glinting in that way that gets the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Rusty?” She asks with a streak of girlish innocence. Frank has to take a deep breath to steady himself for the next round. He misses.  _ Shit. _

“I thought you were some sort of spec ops sniper?” She giggles as Frank downs the next cup that Elektra predictably bags. “Or do you  _ want _ to see how I kissed Matthew back in college?” Frank’s trigger finger twitches. He breathes out, automatically, in one long stream and lets fly. The ball drops directly into the cup he was aiming for and Elektra downs first one and then another. He can feel himself breathing slow and shallow, eyes focussing like they haven’t for months. Elektra in return seems to up her game after an initial couple of misses that have Foggy cheering and Matt grinning delightedly as he gets Karen to tell him what’s happening. 

It’s a genuine battle, until the two of them have a single cup left and neither are  _ quite _ able to put it away.  
“Frank I can taste the Tequila from  _ here!” _ Matt whines. Foggy makes a face.  
“Oh  _ god  _ I didn’t need to know you can do that, buddy.” He leans away from Matt as if that makes any difference. Matt’s eyes are crinckled at the corners with happiness. Frank can tell by the way he’s holding onto Foggy and the way he’s moving his head that his compensatory senses are completely fritzed out, but he’s smiling and at ease, comfortable despite the disorientation. Frank zeroes in on his lips. Soft and relaxed. Frank lets the sight of them settle the competitive drive and… the ball skims the edge of the cup and bounces away. Huh. He watches dully as Elektra stoops to retrieve it.  
“No hard feelings then?” She’s grinning so wide and sharp that she’s practically white hot to look at. She winks and… misses. Frank didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until he has the ball back into his hand. Elektra is still grinning. He glares back and makes himself imagine it, imagine her winning, god she’ll be  _ insufferable _ . He lets it burn, solidifies that feeling, shoots and… scores.

Their little crowd of partly superpowered misfits erupts before Elektra has even picked up her cup to down it. Foggy jumps up, clapping in excitement and nearly catapults Matt across the room. Frank swoops over to catch him when he lurches in the vague direction of the game table. Matt actually misses with the kiss and ends up getting Frank just to the right under his nose. Frank takes his head in his hands, runs it through his hair and kisses him on the mouth. Matt parts his lips and it gets sloppy enough for Jess to make a loud noise of protest. Frank glances over when they break apart to see Foggy laughing with his hands over his eyes and Elektra being consoled by an amused-looking Trish and Karen, each with one arm around her shoulders. Matt hugs him close around the neck and gets his lips close to Frank’s ear. He nibbles just a little and then whispers.  
“I like tequila more than beer.” He says it like it’s a secret. “But I wanted you to win anyway.” He tells him, all earnest. Frank chuckles exasperatedly.  
“Should hope so.” He shifts to hold Matt around the waist. Matt is still clinging on around his neck, leaning most of his weight. Matt is pretty heavy these days. “C’mon, Red. Let’s get sat down again, huh?”  
  
After that, Karen flattens Trish, who to be fair to her has been intermediately targeted by Jess and her ability to compel others to attempt to match her drinking speed. In the end it's Claire who almost takes her down, and when she loses, grabs Karen by the wrist and yanks her arm into the air.   
"Supreme winner!" Claire bellows. Karen does a little curtsey. Frank shorts as he claps as loud as he can, kid could be a damn  _ snipe _ r.

*

There is just about enough room to sleep everyone at base, if Matt and Frank share. That doesn’t really optional at the moment, Matt is impossible to dislodge from whoever he latches into by anyone but Frank. When they get in, super strength friends helping anyone who needs it, they all sort of collapse onto the assortment of worn out couches, chairs and bean bags they have accumulated.

Matt curls up against Frank’s chest like a comically oversized kitten (if kittens happily mumbled non-stop about everyone's shampoo brands) and Frank is suddenly aware that the others aren't usually privy to such sloppiness. Nobody bats an eyelid though. Frank helps him get comfortable and then cradles his arms around him. Matt's hilariously tactile right now, keeps touching his face with clumsy fingers.   
"Hey you're all happy." Matt says.   
"Yup." Frank says, chuckling. Matt nuzzles the side of his face but doesn't actually kiss him, just sort of puts his head there and leaves it.  
"Good.” Matt murmurs, eyes falling closed, sleepy smile tugging his lips. “I’m happy too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, finally got to posting the final chapter! Figured it should round off with some fun after all the Real Talk. Thanks for reading and to everyone who helped me figure stuff out when I got stuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Will probably be about 16 chapters now this thing is a bit out of control.


End file.
